


A Girl on Fire

by mosomacilany



Series: The Dance of the Phoenix [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blood Magic, Darkspawn, Demons, Dragon Age Spoilers, Drama, Dreamwalking, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Grey Wardens, I'm Bad At Tagging, Insecurities, Mages and Templars, Music Included, Nightmares, Psychological Torture, Ritual Sex, Rituals, Romance, Sexual Content, Suicidal Thoughts, The Fade, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 116,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4885417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosomacilany/pseuds/mosomacilany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>”The truth is relative, it depends on the lens through you observe it. Reality is the question of relativity. A madman thinks the projections of his mind are real. A faithful thinks the subject of his worship is real. For them, these things are flesh and blood. [...] Are the Templars evil for locking up mages or they are heroes for protecting innocents? Are you evil for bearing magic or a victim because your gift stigmatizes you?"</p><p> </p><p>A little girl is deployed to Kinloch Hold. A little girl who becomes a mage. A mage who is obssessed with fire. A mage who is dangerously connected to the Fade. A prodigy who is surrounded by hatred and prejudice in a world where bearing magic is the original sin.</p><p>A mage who because of a mistake becomes a Grey Warden. How the taint in her blood alters her magic? How the Blight changes a barely adult girl?</p><p>My native language is not English, so please be gentle :)</p><p>Please leave a comment if you liked, even if you don't like. I'm interested in any opinion :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you will enjoy it. If you do, please tell me your opinion. Feedbacks are fuel for inspiration and motivation :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A frightened little girl arrives at Kinloch Hold, the Circle of Ferelden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated.
> 
> Please, tell me what you think :)

A little girl stood on the dock of Lake Calenhad, snuggling her dirty ragdoll, the only thing the Templars allowed her to take. The road was long from Starkhaven to Kinloch Hold, and she was tired. She didn’t understand what was happening around her, why her father let these men take her away. She had vague memories of men in the same uniform dragging her brother away a few years ago.  
  
 _He never came back._  
  
What did she do wrong? She only wanted to help the butcher’s son; she always tried to be a good girl and doing what was told. She was her father’s little sunshine, and now he didn’t even want to see her when these men dragged her away.  
  
The two frightening Templars with a flaming sword on their chest plates came for her, uncompromising, stealing her from her home. At first, she cried, hit them, and begged for her father, anything to make those people take her back. She even tried to run away, but they were faster, bigger and stronger than she. They simply snatched her and tucked her under their armpit, uncaring of her tears. Eventually, her tears just stopped streaming, and she retreated into a silent existence, always staring the ground under her feet. She did what she was told, never asking anything, just being a good girl.  
  
From the ferry, the tower seemed so dreadful as loomed over the lake, that for a moment she thought it might be a nightmare. It was too scary to be true. She bit her lower lip to wake herself up until she felt the coppery taste of her blood in her mouth.  
  
 _It wasn’t a dream_  
  
And after long days of catatonia, that aching knot in her throat began to throb again, and she felt the burnings tears trickling from her eyes. She began to sob, silently, to avoid drawing the attention of the Templars.  
  
Two men waited for them at the other side of the gate. One, in the same uniform with the flaming sword, with that stern expression on his face that made her shudder. She somehow found him scarier than her unwanted companions. She only dared to take a quick glance at him, but when their eyes met, she instantly looked to the ground again.  
  
She stole a glance to the other man. He seemed kinder; under his thick mustache and beard, he was smiling. He wore some robe which covered his whole body, and there was a staff strapped to his back. But she couldn’t stand his gaze for long and soon fixated her glance to the floor again.  
  
“What is your name?” she heard the question. That stern voice made her twitch, tremble. She didn’t dare to look up to them, just snuggled her doll as much as she could and stared at a stain on the floor. She wanted to run away, back to her father and ask his forgiveness for whatever she had done. But she could do nothing. Fear rooted her legs, petrified her.  
  
“Answer them.” Commanded one of her unwanted companions and violently shoved her on the shoulder. It was so intense that she fell on the floor and cried out in shock. And she couldn’t sob in silence anymore; her whole body shook as her grievous wail filled the great hall.  
  
“It is not necessary to be violent Lieutenant,” said the armored man, with a stern and scolding expression on his face. “She is already frightened to death.” The man in the robe crouched to her and helped her to get on her feet again. She slowly looked up to him again, into his warm, deep brown eyes; her father had the same. He still smiled at her and placed his hands on the side of her arms, gently, trying to calm her down.  
  
“What is your name, my child?” His tone was soft, comforting, giving some courage to her. The little girl opened her mouth, but no voice came out of it. She dropped her eyes again, but he propped her chin with his fingers making her look at him again. “Don’t be afraid; I’m here to help you.”  
  
“So… Solona… Solona Amell,” she stammered in a quiet voice. She doubted that anybody heard it beside him.  
  
“Do you know why you are here?” she heard another question from the armored man. His voice made her twitch once again. She still didn’t dare to look at him, so she addressed her answer to the one who held her arms gently. She didn’t like the men in armor. They looked so mean. The man in the robe at least knew how to smile.  
  
“I did something wrong, didn’t I?” she asked uncertainly. He chuckled. It was so familiar, so soothing like his father was when she said something terribly silly. ”It wasn’t my fault, I swear.”  
  
She tried to apologize, like when her father caught her in a prank what was usually not her fault, but her cousins’ “The boy fell from the tree. I just wanted to help him.” Her speech drowned into crying again. The man wiped her tears gently from her face and waited patiently for her to continue. “Can I go home now? Please, I will be a good girl, I promise. I won’t do it again, just let me go home.” she begged.  
  
“What you won’t do again, my child?” he asked.  
  
“I won’t let my hands glowing again. Isn’t that why I’m here?” The little girl grew bolder. She didn’t know from where she got that courage, but suddenly even the Templars in their armor didn’t seem so frightening. “My father punished me, because my hands were glowing, just as he punished my brothers before me.” The crouching man looked to the stern templar questioningly.  
  
“Her brothers are mages too, all of them” he answered to the unspoken question.  
  
Mage.  
  
Solona heard that word before, at the Chantry, when the sisters taught the young ones on every holy day. She was usually so bored during those lectures, trying to occupy herself, just let her imagination wander elsewhere.  
  
But one sentence burned into her mind. Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.  
  
The Chantry sisters told this to them every single time; she could have recited this proverb even if her father had woken her up in the middle of the night from her sweetest dream.  
  
“How old are you?” the armored man asked her once again. For the first time since her first faint attempt, she looked at him and answered him directly.  
  
“Six,” her tone was more confident, but still very quiet and weak. The robed man handed a handkerchief to clean her face, stained with salt and water.  
  
“You are a very smart and brave young lady.” He hummed gently and paternally as slowly stood. “My name is First Enchanter Irving, and this is your new home.”  
  
The shock settled on Solona’s face as she understood his words. She dropped her doll, felt weak, stumbling backward. Backing into one of the Templars, he grabbed her thin, fragile arm, making it impossible to run away.  
  
“No, no, please, just let me go home!” She begged, and the tears began to stream down her face again. She didn’t understand anything, felt trapped, she tried to escape from the grip of the Templar, tried to kick with her legs in any direction she could, but he held her firmly. She sobbed, yelled at them, begged for release, but it was useless; she screamed to deaf men.  
  
They stood there motionless, none of them helped her, none of them heard her, just watched the desperate struggle as she tried to get herself free, like a trapped little bird. It seemed like hours of desperate tussles before two men arrived in robes and dragged her to a small room with a bed and a cupboard. They shut the door behind them and locked it with a loud, merciless ‘click.'  
  
She banged on the thick wooden door, shouted, yelled, screamed for long hours until her voice became hoarse and she could do nothing else but wail. Begging for release, to let her go home. Nobody showed up. Neither to free her nor to silence her. Eventually, after the last of her strength left her, she realized that nobody would come to rescue her. Laying on the bed and embracing her thighs, the only thing she could do was weep and silently pray to the Maker that her father would change his mind and come for her.  
  
The room shuddered into empty loneliness around her so silent she could hear her fast heartbeat. When she wearied herself with sobbing and eventually couldn’t cry anymore, she just stared at the whitewashed ceiling. Washed-up and sleepless, her mind raced, tried to comprehend what happened to her that day, tried to find some explanation, but the only thing she could come up with is that this must be some punishment.  
  
As the first rays of the sun shone through the small windows of the room, she sank into a state of silent catatonia again, facing the wall with glassy eyes, red and puffy from crying. She didn’t even react to the opening door. She heard the deliberate but still soft steps approaching her bed. Felt that somebody sat beside her, and gently stroked her disheveled, half-undone ginger hair.  
  
It was like fire always in two braids that fell her shoulders. Her father so loved to comb it; he was so proud of it. It was like a fall of flames on her head, he always said. The Chantry sisters always wanted to trim it down or dye it to another color, anything to conceal it. They found it a bad omen, the color of destruction. Her father just laughed every time they tried to persuade him and always recited the same proverb from the Chant of Light; Touch me with the fire that I be cleansed.  
  
“I’m sorry that we have frightened you, my child.” She recognized the gentle voice. It was the man called Irving. Solona slowly turned toward him, and he just smiled at her soothingly “But you must understand that you are special and your father just did that is the best for you,” she sat up and looked at him with big bleary, sparkling emerald-green eyes.  
  
Her father always said that they are more beautiful than any jewel in the vault of the Orlesian Empress or any ruler in Thedas. He, of course, embellished her beauty like would any father would do with his little sunshine, but she felt so special when he told her such things.  
  
“What a lovely little girl you are,” Irving said after a few minutes of silence as he returned her ragdoll to her. “You shouldn’t keep this, but this will be our, little secret, okay?” and he conspiratorially held his index finger to his lips.  
  
Solona snuggled the toy to herself and lowered her eyes confused. At first, he locked her up in this room, and now he is treating her sweetly? This made no sense for her. Remembering the look of reproach her father would give her for not saying thank you she looked up and smiled at him uncertainly.  
  
“Do you know what a mage is?” She heard the question and answered the first thing that came to her mind.  
  
“Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.” this made Irving laugh, and once again she was reminded of her father.  
  
“I see your Chantry sisters taught you well, my child.” He stood up stretching out his hand to her to accept, Solona slowly got up from the bed and took it. They exited the room and walked through a wide corridor, her eyes growing big as she beheld the size of it for the first time. Previously, she had been too occupied in her struggle for freedom, but now as they took the steps together, she could look around.  
  
And the adventurer awoke in her; she so loved to explore the woods next to their home in Starkhaven, to the greatest chagrin of her nurse. Not only because she had to accompany her to every exploration, but she also ruined her dresses, got bruised and dirty from head to toe. She couldn’t wait to explore this place, find every secret nook of it, and without her even noticing her discomfort disappeared.  
  
Irving led her into his office, where an elder woman waited for them. As they entered, he released Solona’s hand and sat down while the old lady approached her and crouched.  
  
“This is Senior Enchanter Wynne. She wanted to meet you.” The First Enchanter introduced her. She stroked little girl's cheek gently, almost with maternal care; as if Solona had any idea what maternal care was. Given that, her mother died when she was three. She had only a few foggy memories of her, and she wasn't smiling or laughing in any of them, only sad.  
  
“Welcome, my child” the elder woman greeted her. Her voice was velvety, caressing like the fresh springtime breeze, she couldn’t do anything but smile in response.  
  
“You are a mage, Solona.” Irving began “That’s why you cannot go home. That’s why your hand was glowing when you helped that boy. You healed him.” She looked to the First Enchanter confused.  
  
“We can teach you, child,” Wynne continued. “We can protect you. The outer world doesn’t understand us; our power leads to mistrust.” The little girl listened to them attentively and the more they spoke, the more she understood that she was stuck.  
  
Her father will never come for her.  
  
Wynne slowly raised Solona’s hand, palm facing her. “Think of something that warms you, something you like, my child. Concentrate on it in your mind.” She didn’t understand but didn’t dare to oppose. Envisioning the image of fire in the fireplace of their house and a strange but pleasant feeling flooded her body, tingling and oddly familiar. Tiny blazes appeared in her hand, frightening her at first. It didn’t burn her, but she felt it pulsating, vibrating, like a small heart beating in her palm. And this was mesmerizing to her; it seemed synchronized with her own heart like they were one and indivisible. As the tingling feeling circulated inside her, boiling through her veins with a ferocity she had never felt before, she tentatively clenched her fingers, and the little flames blew out without causing her any injury. Wynne, who just smiled her contentedly at the stunned expression on Solona's face.  
  
“It is a blessing, and a curse, my child,” Irving spoke at last. “We will help you to master it, to keep it in control.” As if on cue, a young elf boy in robes appeared in the door. “From this day, you are the apprentice of our Circle.”  
  
And the young boy gently led her out from the office.


	2. The Dreamwalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six years have passed since Solona arrived at the Circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated.
> 
> Please, tell me what you think :)

Solona was at the First Enchanter's office for her private lecture. After her joint classes with the other apprentices, she spent her time at Irving. Most of the time he didn't teach her anything, just gave ancient tomes to read. At first, they were in the common tongue. But as she began to learn Elvish and Tevene, he gave her texts in these languages. Solona never understood this. She never knew why she needed to read these boring and useless books about the theory of magic. It was much more fun to use these spells than learning about them.  
  
She elbowed on the desk resting her chin on her palm. With her other hand, she ignited and blew out flames and released some blasé sigh. From time to time her glance wandered from the text, and she looked around, tried to find some new curiosities. Irving's office was always full of interesting artifacts, mostly forbidden to touch. They were much more entertaining than the tome before her.  
  
Her eyes rested on the crystal star chart at the side of the table. She began to remunerate the constellation she knew. Servani, Tenebrium, Silentir, Toth…  
  
"Solona, focus on the text." She heard his mentor's chiding, still soft command.  
  
She apologized, strengthened herself and continued the reading. But after a few sentences, she noticed those thrilling noises from outside. The senior apprentices were dueling at the training grounds. From the open window, she listened to the sizzles and explosions and sniffed the smoky smell, mixing with ozone. She stole a glance to her mentor, who seemed to be occupied by his daily duties, so she risked peeking the dueling practice. This kind of magic was still forbidden to her. She could only try them in secret, which often led to disaster and long hours of detention.  
  
"Solona, focus on the text." She heard the command again, this time, louder. "Learn some self-discipline, my child." She looked to his mentor with penitent puppy eyes, knowing its effect to him. And soon Irving's stern and demanding expression eased up. A soft smile appeared at the side of his mouth.  
  
"Sorry Master, but I don't understand how these texts help me to be a better mage." her voice was humble, but the Firs Enchanter heard the slight insolence in it.  
  
Her talent became evident shortly after her arrival, as well as her recklessness. Her tutors praised her abilities, just as complained about her lack of discipline. She often caused accidents with her incautious and uncontrolled spells. There were traces of her magic everywhere in the Hold. Burned marks on the floor and walls, scorched furniture. In cleaning the Tranquils couldn't keep the pace with her destruction.  
  
The First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander often debated about her. The Templars saw a danger in her, a potential target for demon possession. Irving saw a brisk young lady, whose naughty or kind glance or cheerful smile could make him smile. During that six years he mentored her, she became like a daughter to him. And this sometimes caused that he was permissive with her than he should be. And Solona knew that she could get away with everything in worst cases with light retribution. The only thing she had to do to gaze at him with big and sad eyes.  
  
Even the First Enchanter had to admit that she was impulsive and undisciplined. A pile of reports landed on his desk every day because of her. Nothing could occupy her attention for a long time, except elemental magic.  
  
The Templars called her Fiery Witch.  
  
Her fire spells were extremely powerful; she could barely keep them at bay. The Knight-Commander and the Templars often expressed their fear that someday she will burn the whole Circle down with a wildfire.  
  
But she was talented in almost every area of magic, and everybody admitted this. She learned faster than her coevals, succeeded in everything usually at the first attempt. The Templars and the enchanters both considered her as a prodigy. Sometimes she outstripped even her tutors. And this was that made her be surrounded with mistrust and hatred, not just among her fellow apprentices, but the enchanters.  
  
The other apprentices in her dormitory were envious and jealous of her talent, or they just feared her. Nobody spoke to her or played with her. They gossiped malicious things about her, gave her mean nicknames. These mischiefs were like piercing needles on her skin. Not that obvious like being beaten by a bunch of bullies, but equally maleficent. She had only one friend, the bookworm boy, Jowan.  
  
"The theory is the base of everything, my child." Irving lectured her in patient tone. "Read the chapter again, and this time be attentive." Solona grimaced and rested her chin on her palm again. She was about to ignite the flames in her hand, but before they could form an icy tendril shivered down her arm. "No magic!" Irving commanded, and Solona took a sulky glance to him before she began to read the text again.  
  
It seemed that ages had passed when she managed to get through that chapter. She felt Irving's watching eyes on her skin whole time. She couldn't escape this time. She tried to concentrate on the crabbed Elven letters, tried to understand every word, knowing that her mentor will question her about it.  
  
"Master," she addressed him after she read the last word of the text "I have strange dreams lately." Irving raised his eyebrows to this, gave his full attention to her.  
  
"What kind of dreams, my child?" he inquired  
  
"I see strange, talking animals, telling me puzzles to answer." Irving knew that it was a bad sign. It was only a matter of time for the demons to try to consume or possess her. Her raw power was apparent for an experienced enchanter, feeling the vibrations of the Veil around her. He tried to keep her in ignorance about the Fade as much as he could. But he knew that he couldn't keep her away forever.  
  
He stood up from the desk to search something on her bookshelf. "Did you know the answers?" He asked as perused the spines of the books.  
  
"Yes," she answered, and a light smirk appeared on her face. "They were ridiculously easy." Irving saw the first signs of hubris in her. She was smart enough to recognize her talent. She knew that she was better than most of her coevals.  
  
"These are demons, my child. They want to consume you" He said as turned back to her. Her eyes became big, filled with astonishment. Irving chuckled on her innocent reaction as walked to her and handed the book. Solona read the Elvish letters on the spine.  
  
 _'The Beyond.'_  
  
"The Fade is filled with wonders and dangers, my child," he lectured her. "It is time to learn about it more. I think this will be a better reading for you."  
  
She devoured the book, read it again and again on the side of it became tattered. Every day, at their private the First Enchanter and she, discussed what she had learned from it. It was more surprising that this was beneficial to her concentration. She became more disciplined at her practical classes, and day by day lesser complaints landed on Irving's desk because of her.  
  
One night after lights-out Solona slipped away from her dormitory. She often did this to visit her hiding places, to try some spells what Irving said she wasn't supposed to, or just to gaze the night sky. Sometimes she was caught by a Templar on night watch or snitched on by one of her roommates. In these occasions, the Knight-Commander gave her harsh punishments, usually longer or shorter period of penal servitude beside the Tranquils. By the time she discovered the system of these patrols and could evade these always watching guards.  
  
As she reached that small storage room next to the greenhouse, she locked herself in and lit some candle. She sat down in tailor's seat and opened her book to read a chapter for countless times now about the mages who could enter the Fade without lyrium.  
  
Irving didn't allow her to try the techniques she read in it. She wasn't ready he said and warned her to be patient. Sometimes Solona wondered why her tutors and even her mentor restrain her. She is talented they say, and yet they do not let her develop no matter how much time she told them that she was ready.  
  
When she finished with the reading, took the book away, closed her eyes and began to concentrate on her flowing energies, just like she read, let it circulate in her unhindered, that the tingling tendrils run through her muscles and veins until it embraced her whole entity. She felt herself light as she hovered in the void like she left her body. And a moment later she felt solid ground under her feet.  
  
She opened her eyes and looked around. She was in an enormous hall, lit by braziers. The air around her was thick, almost choking, make the place feel humid and fusty. The walls filled with discolored murals half came off. She wasn't in Kinloch Hold. She discovered every nook of the place and had never seen anything like this before.  
  
Her energies surged in her in a strange way. Like it wanted to break free, tear her apart. It circulated in her more intensive than usual, leaving waves of pain running through her veins. This was never painful. Her magic was always a tingling and warm sensation. She tentatively stretched her fingers and ignited flames. It burnt her hand. She clenched her hand immediately, and the agony of her spell faded away in that very second. She looked at her hand, and it was intact, without any injury. She tried to focus her energies, but this time, everything around her was on fire. With a swift counterspell, she extinguished the flames.  
  
Something wasn't right. She could control her spells before. She wasn't in Kinloch Hold, but she wasn't in the physical reality either.  
  
She was in the Fade.  
  
When the revelation reached her, she began to battle for breath. And this caused her energies to surge in her a more intensive way, like tearing her veins, even her muscles and skin apart to break free. Like it tried to consume her.  
  
She remembered Wynne's words to take deep breaths when she felt like losing control over her magic. So she decided to take them as deeply as she could to pacify her respiration. And soon her rampaging energies began to calm down, and her piercing agony faded away. It became that so familiar, so pleasant tingling sensation again.  
  
"Who are you?" She heard the question in Elvish. The voice sounded ethereal, like an echo. And soon a ghostlike female figure appeared, transparent, illuminating in cold green, like the flames in the braziers lighting the hall.  
  
"I'm Solona Amell." She also answered in Elvish. She had a harsh accent, grating for the ones, who spoke it with delicate nuances. "Where am I? Are you a spirit?" she asked.  
  
"You are in the Beyond. I am a spirit welcoming the ones who seeks knowledge." It answered in a monotone yet pleasant voice.  
  
"You are a Spirit of Wisdom." she realized. Those boring texts of her mentor weren't useless at all.  
  
"Indeed, Dreamwalker," it replied.  
  
"Dreamwalker?" She has never heard this term before, never read about it, even in the books Irving gave her.  
  
"Your blood doesn't sing the song of the Titans or bounded to another's blood." She didn't understand these rebuses. It made no sense. She knew the words, but they had no meanings for her. "You came here with a purpose. Seeking knowledge, you are not supposed to."  
  
Solona's glance wandered from the ghostly figure to the greenish-bluish flames. She took some uncertain steps to a brazier and took her hand over it. It was cold, like ice. She tentatively stretched her fingers and tried to imagine this alien fire in her mind, and slowly it appeared in her hand.  
  
It was so different from her fire. It was tame and controllable, easy to keep at bay. Her fire was lively, pulsating in her hand, indomitable and wild. These bluish-greenish flames didn't reflect on her. It was lifeless and artificial.  
  
"What's this, spirit?" she inquired as showed the flames in her hand to it.  
  
"Veilfire, Dreamwalker. Invented by the ancients much before their downfall." It answered in monotone voice. The Fade is filled with wonders… Irving's words echoed in her mind. He was right. It was full of many exotic wonders than her Circle. It was filled with wonders they would never be able to teach her.  
  
"You are not ready, Dreamwalker." The spirit answered her question before she could ask it. Why is it that everybody is telling this to her? She wondered. "You want to seek knowledge which is beyond your realm yet."  
  
"When I will be ready?" She raised her voice, almost shouted with the spirit. She was so she was so tired of that everybody tried to restrain her. She was eager to learn, and yet she always met walls and with that four so hated words. _YOU ARE NOT READY._  
  
"You possess the power, but you cannot control it. You want to learn, but you don't know what." the spirit replied in still monotone and soft voice. "When you find the purpose, I can give you the meaning."  
  
Solona was fed up with the spirit's rebuses. And her anger revivified her rampaging energies, causing waves of pain to her so intensively that she couldn't control. As she tried to took deep breaths to pacify it, but it just made it worse.  
  
Soon the hall burned in consuming fire, and she and the spirit stood in the middle of it. "Learn patience, and you will be ready, Dreamwalker," it said lastly before everything around them became slurred, and a moment later she woke up in the storage room, at Kinloch Hold.

* * *

Next day she told Irving what she had done, proudly showing him the ice-cold fire she discovered. He has never been angrier to her, and Solona doubted that he will ever be. He yelled at her for long hours. That how reckless and disobedient she is. That he should let the Templars perform the Rite of Tranquility on her. That the demons could have consumed her, or worse, possess her.  
  
It seemed like a never ending tongue-lashing, filling her heart with remorse. She saw the disappointment in Irving's eye mixing with sorrow. And finally, she understood. She did something wrong, did something that she didn't suppose to. She clenched her eyes not to shed those tears of shame burning her eyes, but they were unstoppable. They trickled down her face as listened to her mentor's chiding, which sounded soft and caring despite everything.  
  
Eventually, Irving ran out of words, and just the heavy silence remained in the study. Only her ragged and trembling breath disturbed it. Her eyes were still shut, forcefully tried to stop her tears. She heard shifting and then felt her mentor's gentle thumb caressing her cheek. She slowly opened her eyes and raised them to the First Enchanter.  
  
"What did the spirit tell you?" he asked  
  
"That I'm not ready." With his other hand, Irving stroked down on her arm.  
  
"Indeed, my child," he replied. "What have you done is a very rare thing, thus very dangerous. It is a gift only a strong-minded can bear." The First Enchanter stood up and hinted for her to take her regular seat at the desk, giving her a tome to read from it.  
  
This time, she read it attentively, never looking up from it even for a moment, just when she finished the last word of the chapter.  
  
"Master, are you angry at me?" She asked in her most penitent tone, filled with uncertainty. He looked up from his parchments and looked into her green eyes, releasing a soft and reassuring smile.  
  
"No, my child, but you've frightened me," he answered. "You made a foolish and incautious thing." He leaned on his elbows crossing his fingers before his head, like every time he was thoughtful or wanted to emphasize his words. "I cannot forbid you to visit the Fade. But I can teach you to how to defend yourself there. But only with one condition." Solona's eyes kindled and looked to her mentor almost pleadingly.  
  
" _Anything_ , Master."


	3. The Templar and the Fiery Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new Templar arrived to Kinloch Hold, whose only task is to monitor a certain mage girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter switches between Solona and Cullen POV
> 
> Comments are appreciated.
> 
> Please, tell me what you think :)
> 
>  

Irving let Solona descending but only with him. Once a week at her private lecture she and the First Enchanter entered the Fade. Solona with meditation, he with lyrium. The Knight-Commander strictly supervised every session. He stood over them every time, his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to strike if one of them becomes an abomination.  
  
Greagoir expressed his disapproval every time. Not just because the hazard this method meant, but these sessions took too much of Irving. After every descent, he needed days for recovery. Though the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter agreed that this is the only way to keep her visits under control.  
  
Weeks after weeks Solona learned more and more in the Fade. History, philosophy, ancient forms of magic, she devoured every knowledge. She met every kind of spirits and demons and learned technics to defeat them. Her magic was stronger there than in the physical reality, but as the years passed and spent more and more time there, she learned how to keep it at bay. However Irving almost never allowed her to practice the techniques she saw in the Fade, but when nobody watched her, she tried most of them, knowing that if she is caught, her mentor won't let her go with a slight retribution.  
  
Irving noticed the advance in her focus and as she became more and more disciplined in her practical classes. He allowed her sometimes to visit the Fade alone for Greagoir's greatest concern. But Solona returned every time safe and sound.

From her sixteenth birthday, she could practice elemental magic at the training grounds. But it soon became apparent that she is stronger than her coevals. She defeated most of them with a single spell. Through the years the mistrust and envy grew around her. Not just her fellow apprentices, but even her tutors made her feel their hatred. She was more talented than most of the mages in the Circle, and she knew that. And as her power and technique advanced, her hubris and pride increased exponentially.  
  
Irving was worried about her. With this adverse change in her attitude made her more vulnerable for demon possession and it was already hard to convince the Knight-Commander not to consider performing the Rite of Tranquility on her. But he had to compromise with the Templars to protect her. However her self-discipline advanced through the years, and everybody acknowledged her abilities, her spells were still dangerously strong and incautious. Eventually, Irving, Wynne, and Greagoir agreed that she needs constant surveillance by the Templars, at least until she performs her Harrowing.  
  
Solona was readying for her duel. They gave her a junior enchanter opponent that day. Niall. He was seven or eight years older than herself. She saw him dueling. He was predictable, using the same spells in the same order every single time. But she was in a generous mood, intending to give him a chance to defeat her.  
  
"Solona! Are you even listening to me?" Jowan asked in a peevish tone. Their friendship was an unlike one. The solitude and the other apprentice's contempt brought them together. Solona protected him from the bullies, while Jowan gave her company. But they were nothing in common, only that they were pariahs in the other's eyes. Solona was talented, powerful, the favorite of the First Enchanter, while Jowan barely could cast a spell properly and even his mentor considered him as a failure.  
  
"Sorry, what did you say?" she replied in a wandering tone, her eyes on the training grounds.  
  
"So, you are a girl, aren't you?" Solona heard the awkwardness in his voice.  
  
She slowly turned her head to him, and her lips turned to a naughty smile. "Thanks for noticing." She replied, amusedly watching that her friend blushes to his ears.  
  
"You know what I mean," he muttered. Solona began to warm her muscles for the duel.  
  
"No actually not." she giggled. "Enlighten me!"  
  
"Don't mock me!" he yelled at her angrily. "You are a girl... so you know the standards of... courting." Solona raised her eyebrows to the pepper-red Jowan who couldn't be more awkward for asking her advice.  
  
"How should I know?" she exclaimed as grabbed her staff and ran her eyes through the training grounds once again noticing her opponent on the other side. She measured him as the predator its prey, pre-enjoying the forthcoming duel. “I’ve never been courted.”  
  
"And that apprentice from the Anderfels? It seems you get along very well." Solona began to snicker so hard that her tears shed enjoying that she could make Jowan embarrassed anytime.  
  
"Anders?" Her voice still tinkled by her giggle. "We are just killing time."  
  
"I don't know; it seems more than that. Have you shown him the astrarium?"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous" She still snickered, making Jowan furious. She was more experienced than him in every way and this frustrated Jowan. He should be the one who gives her pieces of advice, just like when they were little children. He tried to swallow his increasing envy, but sometimes she just made it too hard with her constant poking.  
  
"Does this conversation has an aim?" Solona threw her words away a bit impatiently.  
  
"I like a girl," Jowan admitted. "Don't worry. It's not you." He prevented her further mockery. "But I don't know how to speak with her... and I thought as a girl you could give me...advice." His face couldn't be redder in his awkwardness, and that perky smirk on Solona's face didn't make his situation easier.  
  
Solona took her hand on his shoulder." Be yourself, my dear friend." She suggested with a wink and exited to the training ground.  
  
There was her opponent, waiting for her. She surveyed him with that arrogant smirk on her face. She loved to entrap her opponent, playing with him or her, like the cat played the mouse before ate it. She never attacked first, waited for the other to lose patience. And soon Niall lost it, casting an ice spell on her. Solona easily evaded it, just like the second or the third. From time to time she poked him with light spells to make him impatient and angry, knowing that his attention will slacken.  
  
In some point, she cast a fire circle them to press him more and more. It was high enough to hide them from the other's sight. She saw the nervousness on his face and knew that he wants to deal with her so that he will use his strongest spell. And when it soon left his staff Solona cast a lightning spell and soon after a barrier. It knocked Niall out, and she blew out the flames around her, looking up to the balcony with a contented smirk on her face. The First Enchanter usually watched her from there during practices, but this time, the Knight-Commander stood there with a recruit beside him.

* * *

The young templar's name was _Cullen_. This was his first day on duty. After many years of dedicated learning and training, he earned his uniform and deployed to a Circle. He stood before the gates watching the impressive building as daggered to the sky like a needle and tried to swallow that knot in his throat, forcing some tranquility on himself. It was his dream since his childhood, and now as he stood in that armor with the sunburst sword on his chest plate, it still felt like a mirage.  
  
His heart pounded so hard as he stepped through the gates, that he could even hear it. He swallowed big ones as looked on the strict looking senior templar who waited for him in the main hall. Cullen needed his every willpower to coop his urge rubbing the nape of his neck like he did whenever he was nervous or awkward. But the last thing he wanted to look like a complete idiot on his first day.  
  
"Welcome to Kinloch Hold, my son." the senior templar greeted him. "My name is Knight-Commander Greagoir, the leader of the Templars here." Cullen stood at attention and saluted instantly, but with a light chuckle, the Knight Commander hinted him to ease up. He was a middle-aged, but well-built man, a commanding expression on his face. He was the type to Cullen always looked up. He was a Templar because of he wanted to join to the Order.  
  
"I heard that your scores were excellent," he stated as beckoned him for a walk. They passed through the wide corridors the giant library filled with apprentices and their mentors learning and practicing and of course with the always watching templars. Cullen was fascinated by the place. It was as magnificent inside as outside with those giant stained glass windows and statues. Despite its purpose, it felt warm and cozy, like a real home.  
  
As they reached the training grounds, where the apprentices were readying for a duel, they went to a balcony above it. "I asked you to station here with a reason, son," Greagoir began. "You will have one and only task to keep on eye one of our apprentices." and he pointed to a girl standing her back to them.  
  
Cullen surveyed her. She had long ginger hair twisted into a chignon, making her long and elegant exposed. She swayed her staff in her hand idly. Cullen found her pretty with her athletic still curved figure, which was just emphasized by her training clothes.  
  
"What makes her so unique that requires exclusive monitoring?" he inquired.  
  
"She is a prodigy," Greagoir replied as turned to him." Although her magic revealed relatively late, she is stronger than most of the enchanters here. The magic runs through her bloodline. She is from the noble family from the Free Marches, the Amells. She is the youngest of her siblings but the strongest. All of her brothers are mages too. The boys call her _Fiery Witch_." Cullen looked through the girl once again.  
  
"Because of her hair?"  
  
Greagoir laughed. "Partly. Just watch."  
  
The girl was preparing for a duel. Her opponent was much older than herself. She positioned herself into a basic stance but didn't attack just waited for the other. And her opponent soon lost his patience and cast a spell. But she evaded his every attempt and responded it with very light spells. She mocked him, played with him. And suddenly they vanished behind a giant firewall. The heat of the flames almost burned Cullen's skin. It was consuming, and the girl cast it. And when it disappeared her opponent lay on the ground unconscious.  
  
The girl looked up on the balcony, her cherry-red lips curved into a contented smile. His eyes met with her green ones. Her glance penetrated to his core, radiating temerity, wildness, and certainty. Even without speaking a single word Cullen knew that she is an indomitable one., the nightmare of every Templar.  
  
"Solona!" her trainer scolded her. "You still can't control the strength of your spells. Look what you've done." And the enchanter pointed to her unconscious opponent and the scorched marks on the ground.  
  
"It is not my fault that the others are weak, Senior Enchanter," her voice was filled with insolence, not regarding the age and rank differences.  
  
"To the First Enchanter! Now!" the enchanter commanded. The girl with confident strides left the training grounds but with her last glance looked to Cullen once again.  
  
Greagoir turned to him once again. "I hope you understand, son. She is talented, maybe the most powerful mage of our time. Her fire spells are incredibly strong; it's her favorite element. But I'm concerned. We are divided about her future. Your task will be to keep on eye her every movement and report to the First Enchanter and me."  
  
"Is she dangerous?" He asked, but as soon as it left his mouth, he wished he could unsay it. If Greagoir found his question stupid, didn't show any sign of it.  
  
"Her attitude is careless and insolent, however, during the last few years, she became much disciplined. Her scores are exceptional in every area of magic from botany to elemental magic. Senior Enchanter Wynne praises her abilities in spirit healing. But her pride and hubris in her abilities made her ideal target for demon possession. Not to mention that she can descend to the Fade without lyrium or blood magic." Cullen raised his eyebrows to this. It was a very rare ability. He never knew a mage personally who bore this ability, only read about it. The Templars considered them very unstable, and they suggest performing the Rite on Tranquility on them.  
  
They left the training ground and headed to the First Enchanter office. As they reached the door, an apprentice stormed out.  
  
_The mage girl._  
  
Their eyes met once again. She looked through him with a disdainful glance and went to her duty. Her eyes blazed in impatience and fury. As she walked away, Cullen looked after her wondering why he was chosen for this task. A senior templar would be more appropriate for this duty or make her a Tranquil would be a more convenient solution.  
  
"The girl is the First Enchanter's protégé," the Knight-Commander said as if he perfectly knew his thoughts. "He protects her with all the power and influence he possesses."  
  
They entered the First Enchanter's office. He leaned over his table, reading a parchment with worried eyes. Greagoir introduced Cullen, what the mage registered with a thoughtful nod, not even looking at him. There were deep bags under his bloodshed eyes like he hasn't slept for ages.  
  
"She knocked her opponent out," stated the Knight-Commander "And almost burned down the training grounds... again." The First Enchanter looked up from his paper and took a long, annoyed glance to the Templar.  
  
'And I punished her properly," the mage snapped out what Greagoir responded with an unsatisfied snort.  
  
"I imagine; a few hours of detention among the Tranquils," the First Enchanter surveyed Cullen with the same disdainful eyes the mage girl did. "Rutherford will oversee Solona." That was the first time Cullen heard the mage girl's name from Greagoir. They haven't been introduced formally and regarding his duty, and he doubted they would ever be.  
  
_Solona._  
  
What an interesting choice of name for a reckless and impulsive girl. Wisdom. Cullen wondered as listened to the never-ending debate of the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter. It seemed like they argued about the girl for ages without any success. They even forgot about Cullen, who just stood there silently waiting for orders.  
  
Eventually, they dismissed him, and he could occupy his quarters and meet his roommate. They expressed their jealousy about his duty to monitor the mage girl and took some inappropriate comment about her exceptional physical features. Cullen didn’t know why but felt rage that they spoke about her like an item on the flesh market. However, for a Templar, a mage is nothing more than a prisoner they had to keep on a leash. That was the first thing they indoctrinated in him. Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.  
  
The following few days, he tried to observe her habits. She seemed disciplined indeed. She had a strict daily routine. After breakfast, she had lectures, like everybody else. After lunch, she spent some hours at the First Enchanter’s office for her private lessons or practiced at the training grounds. In the late evening, she gathered the youngest ones around her and taught them to the most elemental spells or told them tales. The last few hours before lights-out she spent in the library or the greenhouse with work. It seemed that she hasn't got many friends, more likely that besides a bookworm apprentice she didn't have any friend. And the others mocked her, gave her cruel nicknames, whispered about her tauntingly and when she noticed, always twitched for a quick, almost invisible moment.  
  
After a few days she may noticed his stalking, or just was fed up with it, but she approached him. Cullen didn’t know why, but his heart began to beat hard as she took the steps toward him. The side of her cherry-red mouth curved into a smile. Day by day as he observed her, he found her more and more enthralling. With her ginger hair, which was like flames on her head. It was always in a bun, but an unruly lock was always loose. Her emerald green eyes always sparkled like two flawless jewels. Her alabaster skin was spotless, only a few freckles on her cheek and nose. She was different than any other girl he has ever known.  
  
He almost touched the nape of his neck as she came closer and closer but he cooped the temptation. He wanted to be seemed confident. However, he didn’t realize that his face was covered in blush.  
  
“If you are going to stalk me, I should know your name.” Her voice was tinkling like a songbird. It was more womanish than her age, filled with insolence. She didn’t fear him. She didn’t be afraid of any of the Templars. “Or should I call you Templar?”  
  
Cullen was speechless for a moment just stared her. The girl waited for his answer patiently, while his eyes ran across him over and over again.  
  
“That would be appropriate, mage,” he stammered. The girl just nodded and went back to her books, but at halfway, she turned back with a light and careless move.  
  
“You may call me _Solona_.” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name Solona means wisdom in Greek.


	4. I Don't Need Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The relationship between Solona and Cullen is everything but ideal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated.
> 
> Please, tell me what you think :)

Cullen watched her from a respectable distance and studied her every motion, every expression. She sat over an enormous and old tome, and her chin rested on her palm. From time to time she ignited and blew out flames in her other hand. Her eyes often wandered from the book and stopped by a group of girls at the other side of the library, who snickered and whispered about her. That elf apprentice, Surana was always mean to her, gave her cruel nicknames.  
  
Solona clenched her fingers holding it tight for a moment as took a short glance at them and suddenly screams shook the library’s silence, followed by a trail of smoke. The girls ran away library, and with a half-smile on her face, she returned to her reading. She seemed so lonely while she sat in the giant library alone; nobody spoke to her, just that black-haired apprentice, who followed her like a shadow everywhere. Cullen couldn't decide that admired her for enduring all these insults or felt sorry for her. She didn't need any of it. She didn't need anything from anybody.  
  
A Tranquil came to remind her about her private lecture with the First Enchanter. Solona released a soft smile and respectfully thanked him. She treated the Tranquils with more respect than any enchanter or Templar in the Circle, never showing any pity toward them.  
  
As she stood up took a long and inquiring glance to Cullen. Her gaze penetrated to his core as always. Something mesmerizing was in her eyes as ran through him. She invoked extreme emotions from everybody. People could love her, could hate her, but never could be indifferent. She was truly unique, but not in the way the Templars feared her. Cullen watched her for months now, studied her, tried to decipher her, and slowly she occupied his every thought.  
  
When she was at her private lecture, Cullen always had some free time.  He so loved to observe the little ones as they tried to cast the most elemental spells and failed but continued relentlessly. He found their enthusiasm adorable, and he could watch them for hours. He didn't even notice the approaching senior apprentices, who threateningly encircled the little ones.  
  
And everything happened as quick as a thought. The children panicked, and one of them cast a light spell. It wasn't strong enough to scare them away but infuriated them. They were about to attack them, Cullen was about to intervene when suddenly a giant firewall divided them. Solona entered and demanded every attention. She confidently walked to the bullies while with a casual gesture extinguished the flames and stopped right before the strongest apprentice.  
  
"Well, well. Why don't you start with somebody in your league?" The mage towered over her, but before he could attack with a swift spell, she froze him. "Please, I’m clearly out of your league." She raised her eyes to the others, who just ran away. Solona melted the remained mage, and they shared a long, challenging gaze before he crawled away.  
  
"Are you all right?" She asked as turned to the little ones in her most tender voice. They practically overwhelmed her, flooded her with grateful hugs and kisses. Cullen took his blade back to its case.  
  
"Do you need any assistance, Apprentice Amell?" He heard the question of the approaching Tranquil. That was the moment Solona noticed him. She peeled herself out from the grip of the children and began to walk to him.  
  
"Yes, Owain, would you be so kind to accompany these children back to the juniors' dormitory?" She asked politely but fixating her disdainful glare on the Templar. The Tranquil nodded and led the little ones out, while Solona walked to Cullen. His heart began to beat heavily again as she stopped beside him.  
  
"Enjoyed the show, Templar?" she hissed. As she spat out the words, they were like blades cutting his flesh. She didn’t' give him a chance for apologizing or give any explanation, just left him there.  
  
Cullen followed her to the greenhouse. She was lopping the plants and gathered herbs for a potion. Solona carefully dropped them into the mortar, poured some water on it and began to crush. Her movements were considered and her face calm, but he knew her enough to know that she was angry, more likely furious and she just tried to calm herself down.  
  
He stopped at the door and examined her. She was so different than any other girl he has ever met. She was bumptious and prideful, but not intoxicated by her power. And under her insolent mask, she cared for the weak ones, which the others hurt. He loved her impulsivity and grace when she dueled. And he suddenly realized that he liked her more than he supposed to.  
  
"That was noble of you." he said lastly.  
  
Solona slowly took down the pestle and took a sharp glance on him. "I believe it is not my duty to protect the mages from each other." Her words were sharp reminding him about his duty.  
  
"I was about to intervene." he tried to apologize, but she snorted in an unamused laughter as an answer.  
  
"Really? When? Before or after the bullying?" With deliberate strides, she walked to him and leaned over his ears. She was so close that he could smell her indulging scent. It was intoxicating, like the wildflowers of the glades in springtime, like a freshly blossomed rose. She was so tempting at that very moment that caused involuntary shivers running down his spine, leaving goose bumps on his skin.  
  
"Tell me, Templar! What is your exact duty here?" she whispered. He felt her hot breath on his skin. And for some reason, his knees weakened, and his heart began to beat harder. He wasn't supposed to. She was a mage, a duty.  
  
"You," he answered honestly. "To guard you. Just you." She took a few steps back and raised her eyes to Cullen. They blazed in a fury. She just stared him with that frightening gaze, and for a quick moment, he thought that she might strike him to death. But she just shook her head and stormed to him so close that their lips almost met. Cullen's respiration became erratic and also felt her tiny vibrations as took the breaths. For a moment the time froze around them.  
  
"Do me a favor, Templar!" she hissed. "Tell the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter that I don't need protection. Nor spies on my back."  And she slowly walked away, leaving Cullen petrified and speechless.  
  
That was the day when Cullen began to spend his nights in the chapel with praying. He kneeled before the statue of Andraste and recited the Benedictions, begged for the maker to help him coop these unchaste feelings and thoughts, and he wasn't supposed to feel. He recited the Chant of Light almost obsessively until the Circle shrouded into darkness. And only the Templars patrolled the candle-lighted corridors.  
  
He went back to his quarters for his daily dosage of lyrium and some sleep before dawn. There was dead silence in the hallways when a shuddering scream shook the place. Cullen without hesitation ran to the direction of the voice when he heard it again from behind a door next to him.  
  
"Come on, do it, you son of a bitch!"  
  
It was her. Cullen could recognize her voice everywhere.  
  
He drew out his sword and stormed in. She was on the floor pinned down by two other mages. Cullen recognized them; they were the bullies she defeated earlier. Most of her clothes missed from her, and her exposed skin was covered with bleeding bruises. But she wasn't frightened. She fought, flounced, kicked with her legs in any direction she could. And her eyes, that undefinable flame in them. Like a wounded predator, who won't give up until her last breath.  
  
The third mage forced her thighs apart and began to unlace his breeches.  
  
"What's going on here?" Cullen brawled so loud that shook the whole place. He took some steps, pointing his sword to them. "Get away from her! NOW!" The mages stumbled, released her.  
  
"We are just giving her a private lesson, Corporal," they answered. Cullen looked through Solona, as she sat up, tried, to hide her beaten body and rearrange here disheveled hair. She didn't cry, didn't show any weakness, just trembled silently.  
  
"A private lesson? In the middle of the curfew? And that's why she is half-naked and covered with bruises?" He still pointed the sword to him, and Maker sees his soul he so wanted to stab it through them. He needed his every willpower to restrain himself. "You have ten seconds to get the hell out of here, or I will report this to the Knight-Commander." Cullen hissed hissed. "Or I just kill you with my own hands," and the most frightening thing that he meant it. He wanted to kill them for they dared to touch her, hurt her.  
  
He must have been very convincing, because the next moment the mages crawled away, like coward rats into their hollows. He took his sword back to its case and kneeled to the still trembling Solona. The blood still trickled from her bruises and the side of her mouth, and she just stared the floor with glassy eyes. Cullen reached out for her, tried to help her, to comfort her but before he could touch her she angrily pushed his hands away.  
  
"I can handle myself, Templar. I don't need your help," she yelled at him and among groans and tremors got on her feet which barely held her. Her stubbornness flooded him with more rage than the mages who tried to rape her. He didn't expect gratitude, and she was too prideful to express it in any way. But still, he just saved her, he would deserve some kindness at least.  
  
"Look at yourself," he shouted to her. "You are barely alive. You were lucky that I was near to help you". He wanted to slap her, kiss her, kill her, protect her. She made the most extreme emotions come alive in him. And in that very moment as she stood before him in her most disgraceful state he knew that she is everything he ever hated and desired. "You are my duty and I..."  
  
"Enough!" she brawled and with a swift move cast a circle of fire around them. She breathed heavily, and the fire pulsated in sync with it. Like it was part of her, and she was part of it. Like they were one and undividable. He couldn't decide that only the reflection of the flames or the rage blazed in them. She looked so frightening and so beautifully vulnerable among the flames. She slowly walked to him among trembles, hinting her agony what every step caused to her.  
  
"I'm not a helpless little girl who is lost in the forest or a princess in a tower who needs to be rescued." She hissed through her teeth as with an elegant gesture blew out the fire around them. "Remember it well, Templar, because this is the last time I tell you nicely. I DON'T NEED PROTECTION." And she wanted to walk away, but her limbs gave up. She fell on the floor and lost her consciousness.  
  
Cullen rushed to her and took into his arm carefully like she was the most fragile thing on earth. "Maybe you don't need protection, but you definitely need a healer." And he took her to the infirmary.  
  
Senior Enchanter Wynne was in charge that night. As she healed her injuries, the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander asked Cullen about what happened. He told them the whole story that how Solona protected the little ones from bullying and how she paid for it when he intervened in the last moment.  
  
Next day she refused to take testimony.  
  
"I won't be a squeaker," she spat into the Knight-Commander's face. But in private, she told Irving and Wynne what exactly happened. Next day they performed the Rite of Tranquility on the three apprentices, and Greagoir enacted new safety measures to prevent further atrocities. More Templars on the corridors, more severe punishments for breaking the curfew.  
  
But for some reason, Cullen felt that Tranquility a light retribution for what they have almost done to her.  
  
The following few days he didn't see her until oneday Solona visited him in his quarters. He was writing a letter to his sister when she entered. He jumped from his desk as soon as he noticed her and gladly registered in himself that she was safe and sound, only a patch over her eyebrow reminded him what happened. She didn't say a word just stood there biting her lower lip and rotated her glance between the floor and him. Nobody was there just them. Minutes passed in this heavy silence, as both of them searched for the right words.  
  
"I'm here to apologize, Templar." she began. "You saved my life, and I was ungrateful. But you have to understand that there are only a few people here who I can trust in." she took some uncertain steps toward him, wringing her fingers. "I still don't need protection, but I could use a friend." she heaved out the words like they were lead-heavy on her tongue. Cullen couldn't answer just nodded. Solona responded it with an uncertain smile and headed to the door.  
  
But at the last moment, he reached out for her arm and gently grabbed it. He could swear that both of their hearts skipped a beat.  
  
"My friends call me Cullen," he said. Solona's lips curved into a soft smile and she nodded.


	5. Things That Happen After Light-out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year has passed since Cullen rescued Solona and she is preparing for her Harrowing, taking the necessary trials before the ultimate one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will switch between Solona and Cullen POV
> 
> And the second part is NSFW

"They are going to make a Tranquil of me." Lamented Jowan as he stood over the summoning font.  
  
"No, they won't. Just focus." Solona tried to comfort him.  
  
They were at the Summoning Chambers. It was far after the light-out. They sneaked out from their dormitory to practice for his summoning trial. They were taking their necessary tests before the Harrowing. Solona needed only two more, while Jowan five. He felt himself more and more distressed as the time flew. He barely passed the previous ones, and the summoning was his weak point and seeing that Solona passes hers with excellent scores didn't help his situation.  
  
"They performed the Rite on Uldred's apprentice and he was far better than me."  
  
"He was a violent and bully asshole and he used blood magic." Solona tried to convince him, but it was just oil on the fire. But how could he tell this to her? That his envy and desperation led him to what dangerous astray. It was easy for her. She was a bloody prodigy, talented in everything. He shouldn't be jealous. She tried to help him, always protected him.  
  
_Lady Perfection._  
  
That was one of the nicknames Neria Surana gave to Solona and she spread in the dormitory. And Jowan knew how much she hates it. He knew that she would give all her power to be a normal for a little time, to not be a constant target of mistrust and hatred, to not live up to the expectations. Because everybody expected something from her. Some of them to ascend and but most of them to fall.  
  
"We are here to practice. So put your hand on that font and focus your energies on it. Concentrate to the spirit you want to summon." Solona commanded. Jowan touched it and tried to concentrate.  
  
"By the way, how are you two with that mysterious girl you don't want to introduce me?" And she shook him out. Jowan looked to her with a chiding glance, but she just smirked at him like always she wanted to play with him.  
  
"It's complicated." he sulked.  
  
Solona crossed her arms before her chest enjoying that how easily she could embarrass her friend. "Does she even exist? You are so secretive."  
  
"You should care about your forbidden affection to a certain Templar." Solona frowned to him. "I saw how you look at him."  
  
" _Are you insane_?" She yelled to him and she felt that the heat flushes her cheeks. It was one of the very rare occasions that she felt herself awkward. And if Jowan could make her blush something was very wrong. "He is a spy on my back."  
  
"A spy, who saved your life. And what about Anders, are you still 'killing time'?" Solona felt that the heat floods her face more and more. This time, she walked into her own trap. Somehow she felt awkward every time when she was near Cullen or when she talked about him. And Jowan found her weak point, knowing that he could mock her with it every time. She wasn't used to be a target of jokes especially not by him.  
  
"We are not here to discuss my love life." She tried to end this conversation before it escalates.  
  
"You are the one who started it." Jowan snickered. This was the first time he defeated her in anything. And this made him very amused, maybe proud while Solona felt her pride damaged.  
  
"Focus on the font!" she commanded with annoyed and sulky tone. Jowan followed her orders and concentrated his energies. And slowly a figure appeared before them.  
  
"Shit, Jowan!" Solona hissed as cast a fire spell. He summoned a despair demon. It was a weaker one, so she could deal with it with a single spell.  
  
As it burned to ashes she angrily turned to him. "What did you want to summon?" she yelled at him.  
  
"A Spirit of Compassion." he admitted.  
  
"It is the rarest kind of spirit of all, it is very hard to summon. Try something easier, like a Spirit of Valor or Strength or Love." She imperiously pointed to the font again, and Jowan tried again.  
  
And slowly a human figure appeared before them. "Who are you, Spirit?" Solona asked in Elvish.  
  
"I'm the guardian of the purest feeling connecting two souls." it answered.  
  
Solona smiled and looked to Jowan. "You are a Spirit of Love."  
  
"Indeed, Dreamwalker." It stated. "The love is forbidden and leaves only pain behind. Be wise." and it faded away. Solona so hated that the spirits and demons spoke in rebuses.  
  
Once in a lifetime, they could speak plainly. She sulked as descended the spiral staircase led to the Summoning Chambers. But it definitely planted a bug into her ears.  
  
_A forbidden love._  
  
For a mage, love was if not a forbidden thing, but not advisable. Any form of love. The Knight-Commander held his templars with an iron fist, forbidding them any fraternization with the mages. For a mage, love was only a tool to gain things. Anders taught this well to her. A mage could never afford to fall in love.  
  
She so immersed into her own thoughts that almost bumped into the patrolling templars. But at the last moment, she could hide in a dark corner waiting for them to go away. Since her incident, Greagoir doubled the guards on the corridor making it much harder to sneak out after light-out. Eventually, they vanished through the gate and she could come out.  
  
A shadow rushed away beside her. Solona followed it and as they reached the gate she realized that it is Anders. She instantly realized that he is about to escape like he attempted countless times before.  
  
"Are you going to somewhere?" She whispered to him, but it was loud enough to make him twitch. He looked to her and his lips curved into that mischievous smile she so loved. He was older and more experienced, but as rebellious as her, loved to break the rules. Maybe that was the reason why she chose him. "You are leaving me without a goodbye kiss?"  
  
"So you won't stop me?" He asked as took a few steps toward her.  
  
"Why should I? The templars will do the job. But I will give you some advantage. Take it as a prize for your private lectures." She closed the distance between them and smoothed her index finger down his chest. "I will wait until morning to report."  
  
"You are too kind, little girl." And he kissed her hungrily as always. He devoured her mouth, fiercely searched for her tongue. But it was a different sensation than before, it was somehow blunt, not so intensive. It wasn't his fault. He was an excellent kisser, as with her little experience Solona could judge. Maybe just her thoughts distracted her. As they parted he caressed her jaw with his thumb. "You don’t belong to here either." He whispered as released her. She just shook her head and with a resigned grimace he and vanished through the gates.  
  
Solona stood there for a few minutes tried to collect her thoughts when she noticed Cullen, who was behind her. It was enough to see his disapproving face to know that he saw the whole scene.  
  
"Don't worry, Cullen. I will report." She said and tried to walk away beside him, but he grabbed her arm, firmly holding her to not escape.  
  
"He _kissed_ you." he hissed. "He seduced you and you helped him to escape." Solona peeled her arms from his grip.  
  
"I wasn't seduced by anybody, and I helped him, because he doesn't belong to this prison." She shouted to him more loudly than she supposed to. "You would also realize it, if you were willing to get to know us, to speak with us, and not just treat us like we were the most wicked abominations on earth."  
  
Cullen looked at her shocked. She breathed heavily by her anger. She felt her energies rampaging in her almost painfully, and she clenched her fingers forcefully to prevent those flames erupting which almost burned her hand. Nobody could make her angry as much as that templar. She wanted to go away to leave him there, but he grabbed her arm again, this time, stronger.  
  
"That's what you think? That I see you as an abomination?" Solona managed to escape from his grip once again and leaned over to his ears.  
  
"Prove the opposite, Cullen!" she challenged him. "And now will you accompany me to the Knight-Commander for my detention or I can go back to my dormitory?" Cullen didn't react just stood there, his hands in a fist and stared her with his amber eyes. He let her go away.  
  
She couldn't sleep, just tossed and turned in her bed awake. She tried to calm down, pacify her energies, but somehow Cullen could infuriate her every time. Eventually, she sat up on her bed and began to meditate to descend to the Fade. Irving would kill her, she knew, but she needed some distraction from her own thoughts and from that templar. She let her energies to flow in her, to embrace her...  
  
He is just a stupid templar, why am I so angry? She growled.  
  
She shook herself out. Concentrate. She commanded herself as started again, letting her tinkling magic to surge in her body, making her feel floating and soon she felt solid ground under her feet.  
  
She was in a secluded grove. It was emerald green with an old oak tree in the middle. The sky was sparkling blue, the sun lighted the place through the leaves. She even felt the smell of the dewy grass. She was in the Fade, she knew, but it was never so vivid, never so oddly familiar. Like she knew the place from another life. She heard steps from behind. She readied a fireball in her hand to strike, but when she turned the surprise made it fade away.  
  
It was Cullen.  
  
"Well, this is unexpected." She stated stoically.  
  
"Where are we?" he asked as looked around. Solona tried to figure out that it's really him or a demon tries to play with her mind. Every little detail was the same. Even those warm golden flecks in his amber eyes which glimmered every time she looked at him and what she somehow so loved.  
  
"In the Fade," she answered as surveyed him. "I'm sure the Knight-Commander didn't miss to mention that I can descend the Fade without lyrium." she closed the distance between them.  
  
"So you are in my mind?" Cullen inquired. Surprisingly he wasn't furious or frightened, or even confused. "Maybe you are a demon trying to tempt me." Solona tentatively stroked his hand on the side of his arm. In that very moment she touched his armor he blushed to his ears. Solona giggled.  
  
"Or you are a demon trying to tempt me." she riposted.  
  
"I'm not." His voice was filled with resentment. She giggled again. He was an easier target even than Jowan.  
  
"How can I be sure?" she challenged him. Even in the Fade, he was adorably shy and bashful and Solona couldn't deny that it amused her.  
  
"I don't know... I'm not..." he desperately tried to convince her. She wasn't sure that it was really him, but something deeply in her mind whispered that he was. Something indescribable that she felt just around him.  
  
Solona nodded and turned to the oak tree. She walked to its base and sat down and invited Cullen to do the same. "We should talk if we are stuck here." Her voice was a bit perkier than she intended or than it supposed to. "You know, to get to know each other."  
  
He smiled at her mischievously.  It was so alien to his personality, but still, it seemed so natural. She had never seen him smiling. He was always so serious in his templar armor, standing proud and tall, trying to hide his obvious blush every time she approaches him.  
  
They spoke all night about their childhood, family, hobbies and other conventional things. Nothing personal, nothing intimate. As the hours passed Solona felt that the Fade makes her energies surge in her more and more intensively. She had to leave this state before she loses control over her power and accidentally sets everything on fire.  
  
"We should go back before we really stuck here." And she stood up, as well as Cullen "It was fun. We should repeat it sometime." she said. He grabbed her arm and for the moment even the songbirds silenced. A warm sensation shivered down her spine. It was tingling, pleasant, but disturbingly unfamiliar.  
  
"Why here, why not in our reality?" he asked. A wide grin appeared on her face.  
  
"It is important to guard our reputation, Cullen. A templar, who speaks intimately with his duty?" her voice was playful, maybe a bit seductive. "What a scandalous thing." she leaned over his ear so close that felt the warm of his body and that sensation ran down her spine once again.  
  
" _But there are no regulations here_ ," she whispered. She paused for a moment to test him, that he will take the move or not, but he just stood there and this somehow made her disappointed  
  
"Wake up!" She commanded and the next moment she opened her eyes in her dormitory.

* * *

Solona slowly got used to Cullen's constant presence near her. By the time Greagoir promoted him, but his only task was still to monitor her. His roommates made more and more indecent comments about how blockhead he is to not take advantage of his obviously blissful position to be near her. They also expressed their admiration about her exceptional physical features. Cullen could barely endure these obscenities. He couldn't deny that he found her wickedly beautiful too, but she was still a mage, and he was a templar. She was his duty, she was forbidden, she was everything he stood against.  
  
From time to time, he found himself in that glade with her. She was more natural in the Fade. Her tinkling giggles filled the place with life. And Cullen slowly realized that this is her true self, not that insolent and prideful mage girl that the world forced her to be. In the reality mistrust and prejudice surrounded her, so she shielded herself with this attitude. But in the Fade she didn't need these barriers around her.  
  
She was taking her necessary trials before her Harrowing. She had to prove herself in every area of magic in theory and practice, what she managed to take with excellent scores. She was truly a prodigy, but despite this fact, she studied relentlessly. She had only two before her initiation. The herbology and the elemental magic exam. She admitted him in the Fade that she hates herbology, however, she didn't want to make Senior Enchanter Wynne disappointed.  
  
So she spent her days at the library, perusing old tomes. She was bored. Cullen knew that. He knew her every expression. As she read these books and rested her chin on her palm and ignited and blew out little flames in her other hand. It was a certain sign. He often found himself starring her, that she also noticed, and every time she released a perky smile that made him blush.  
  
Her whole daily routine overturned. She spent her whole day and night in the library or the greenhouse. She was the first and the last there and read every book. And one day she needed one from the top bookshelf and there was no one near to help her, so she had to climb the ladder. As she reached out for the tome, but it was too far, so she stretched out more, until her balance flipped and fell from it. Cullen without hesitation rushed to her and caught her from falling.  
  
As she landed in his arms, his heart began to race. Her expression was so grateful and frightened as she looked up to him. She looked so fragile, like a porcelain doll, who could break by a single ill-fated movement. The time froze around them for a moment.  
  
He so wanted to kiss her. He wanted to taste the sweetness of her cherry-red lips and feel its silkiness. He almost couldn't remind himself that he was a templar and she was his duty. He was chosen for this task to monitor her this was his first trial and he failed every time.  
  
Cullen slowly helped her to get on her feet. Solona leaned over and pressed a kiss on his cheek. His legs barely held him, and his every fiber trembled.  
  
"It is fortunate that I have a knight in shining armor." She whispered in her sweet, tinkling voice and with light steps she went back to her desk.  
  
He spent that night in the chapel again with praying. He begged the Maker to give him the strength to coop these temptations and to redeem him from these more and more indecent and sinful thoughts. As he murmured his prayers heard soft noises from outside. As he looked for it, he realized that it is Solona. She so loved to sneak out after light-out. She so loved to break the rules. She was rebellious and wild, the perfect opposite of Cullen, who was considered and compliant. She was everything that he ever wanted to be but never dared.  
  
Her movements were almost silent, cattish. She was barefoot and wore a transparent robe which made her curves and shapely legs exposed by the shining moonlight. Her hair was pinned. Cullen wanted to resist, but his feet didn't answer him anymore and followed her and suddenly realized that they are in the bath. He hid behind a column and watched her from there. He gladly registered in himself that she didn't notice it. She carelessly untangled the belt of her robe and let to slide from her body. And she was there in her physical and unsheathed beauty. Her skin was alabaster, covered with freckles, she had only one birthmark on her right hip. Her body was perfectly sculpted with lean muscles and lush curves.  
  
As she descended to the pool Cullen could admire her from front too. Her breasts were like two beautiful and perfectly shaped apples. Her areolas were cherry-red just like her lips. And between her thighs, there was a lush tuft of hair, which was ginger, just like her hair. She was sinfully beautiful. She was like a prurient mirage.  
  
Cullen looked away and panted heavily. He wanted to run away, but his legs rooted. He didn't dare to look at her again because he was certain that one more moment and he lose his slight remained control over himself and claim her lips and body right there. He was granite hard in his breeches and in this state of blur he slowly realized that he heard moans and whimpers and it came from her.  
  
She masturbated in the water.  
  
And when this revelation reached him the pressure expanded in his breeches almost unbearably. His manhood ached for a touch. For her touch. But he was petrified to do anything. He just stood there listened the lusty voices that left her lips and envisioned that she touches and caresses her breasts, her clit her folds and it makes her writhing and arching against the wall of the pool. and slowly a strange and inconceivable sensation flooded him.  
  
Like her magic entwined him, and make his cock throb in sync with her moans. It was like he was in her like she reacted to his thrusts. The sensation and her expressions were simultaneous. Their breaths became shallower and shallower and he felt her pulsation as her orgasm built. And when she reached it, cried out his name. It was like a heavenly music on her lips, and in that very moment he also released and collapsed by the wave of pleasure it caused. And slowly he felt that her magic leaves his body. He so wanted to rush to her and savor the juices of her orgasm to feel her physically, but as he heard the shifts behind him, that she left the pool, the only thing he could do to crawl away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I cannot be more covered in blush... :)
> 
> And I'm gonna hide forever, or at least until the next chapter. 
> 
> Anyway, thoughts about the chapter? 
> 
> Please do not hesitate to tell me in the comments. Feedbacks always make my day and help me to develop.


	6. A Templar Is...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen struggles with his feelings while Solona is preparing a present for his birthday.

_We are striving after what is forbidden and coveting what is denied us. The demons will never forget this. You should not either._ His trainer always said. _A templar is the model of temperance. A templar is sworn to protect innocents from the harms of magic. A templar is a soldier against the eternal whisper of the demons._  
  
Cullen Stanton Rutherford was a templar; a consecrated warrior of the Maker. And Solona Amell was a mage; a fire made flesh, a demon asleep.  
  
Maker saw his soul; Cullen tried to keep the distance after that night in the bath. He tried to fulfill his task properly. But every time their eyes met something shivered down his spine, shook him to the core. She was forbidden in any mean he could imagine and yet no matter how he tried he couldn't coop it. She never released him. Daytime except for that few hours she was at the First Enchanter he was always near her. And at night if he didn't find himself in that glade with her, he relived that night in the bath over and over again. He even considered asking the Knight-Commander to relieve him of his duty. He failed in every mean he could.  
  
No matter how much time he recited the Chant of Light kneeling before the statue of Andraste, the redemption never came. He could only think about her.  
  
_Why was she so special?_  
  
She was beautiful, it was beyond question. But he could find pretty girls among the templars too, who would spread their legs any time for him. She was different than any other girl he had met before. She was indomitable, following only her own rules, yet kind-hearted and tender. She was a raging storm and a protecting shelter. She was the burning fire and the cooling ice. She was one sweet paradox.  
  
_There are no regulations here._  
  
Her words echoed in his mind as listened to her enthusiastic report about her herbology trial in Fade. He watched that elegant valley where her neck and shoulder met and tried to hush these thoughts away, but it banged more and more from inside.  
  
"Are you listening or should I not bore you?" Solona pulled him back, looking at him expectantly.  
  
"Sorry, I'm distracted.” he apologized. "I got a report today. They captured your friend at the Orlesian border." Her good mood faded away in that very moment and Cullen cursed himself for mentioning it. But it was a casual distraction or a lie or anything to conceal.  
  
"Well, at least he had some good weeks." her voice trembled a bit. She was like a clip-winged bird in Kinloch Hold. She didn't belong to the Circle. She was Cullen's only sin against the Maker. Impure thoughts and feelings toward a mage.  
  
"I'm sorry." he tried to apologize. "I know you are friends... maybe in love?" Solona raised her eyebrows to this and Cullen wished if he could unsay his words.  
  
"No... he is a friend... with some benefit." the side of her mouth curved into a perky smile. He so hated Anders. So hated that for him there was no moral dilemma to touch her, to kiss her. He wondered that did has he ever conquered that valley of her neck he so wanted to taste. Did they see the same girl in her?  
  
"Have you ever been in love?" _Damn._ Why are these questions just pouring out from his mouth?  
  
And something happened. Something pure and innocent, shaking him to his bones. Solona's pale cheeks slowly turned to pink and she cast down her eyes coyly. He has never seen her blushing. In that very moment, she seemed wonderfully vulnerable. Like she was evanescent psyche and if he touches her she'll vanish forever. Maybe it was just the illusion of the Fade.  
  
_There are no regulations here._ His mind screamed at him, banging from inside.  
  
"I think, yes," her answer was low, uncertain, but the whole glade echoed it. And for a moment the time froze again. Even the songbirds silenced and the air became thick and hazy, filled with anticipation. "And you?" she whispered.  
  
Cullen looked into her sparkling, emerald green eyes as she looked through the fan of her lashes.  
  
Was he in love with her or just desire her because she was forbidden? He loved her every motion, every gesture, every expression. He loved as she played with the fire figuratively and literally. No she didn't play with the fire. She was the fire. Dangerous, indomitable fascinating and mesmerizing. And Maker preserves him, he loved her.  
  
"Me too." he whispered back.  
  
_THERE ARE NO REGULATIONS HERE!!!_ Like the whole place whispered this to him.  
  
They sat opposite of each other. A swift move and he could reach her, touch her, feel her.  
  
But before he could do anything she kneeled before him and helped him to do the same. "Can I try something?" she asked. His already racing heart skipped a beat. He kneeled there breathlessly, inches from her and tried to find his remained rationality among the storm of a million thoughts rushing through his mind.  
  
"I won't bite," she promised with a soft smile. "Just close your eyes."  
  
Cullen was reluctant to obey like he was afraid if he did he would wake up at Kinloch Hold. "Cullen... _close your eyes_ ," she asked again. With a heavy sigh, he did.  
  
He grew taut as felt her warm hand ghosted over his temple cheeks and neck. It was warm and inviting, like the caressing flames in the fireplace, smoothing his skin. But suddenly the sensation changed and felt icy tendrils on his skin sending shivering goose bumps down his arms. It was intensive after the warmth of her magic. Slowly the frost settled on his neck worked its way up on his neck, lips, and cheeks. He felt her fingertips from time to time touching his skin and Maker he so wanted to open his eyes to see her. Like she knew his thoughts took one of her hands before his eyes.  
  
"Shhhh!" she breathed over the icy frosts on his skin shuddered him to the core, causing involuntarily trembles shocking his body. When the ice settled down on his skin or he could get used to the sensation her fiery hands melted the icy material from it.  
  
And this triggered waves of memories rushing through his mind. How they played snowball battles with his siblings and after they drank the hot chocolate beside the cracking fire.  
  
"Was it like home?" she whispered, her breath hot on his skin. "Like the warmth of your house? Like the snow-games you talked about?" Her hand moved over his eyes. He slowly opened it, smoothed that always loose, unruly ginger lock behind her ear and kissed her lips.  
  
"Even better." he murmured to her lips as demanded once again. He could not get deep enough into her mouth to satisfy himself. Hungrily searched for her tongue, savored the sweetness of her soft lips, pulled her as close as he could to feel the warmth of it, listened the beautiful moans left her lips. He greedily bit her lips, stole her breath until they parted among heavy pants, with reddened cheeks and sparkling eyes.  
  
Cullen leaned over her neck and tasted that spot he loved so much. As he kissed it felt her erratic breath reverberating on her neck. She was intoxicating. Her scent, her taste, the warmth of her delicate silky skin. She was his only sin in the eyes of the Maker, but in that very moment, she would worth the eternal perdition. They were in the Fade; there nothing was forbidden... even a young mage girl.  
  
As his lips left her shoulder their eyes met again. Seeing her cherry-red lips, bruised by his savage kiss something moved in him. He was a templar, even in the Fade.  
  
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't..." he tried to apologize, but she took her index finger on his lips to silence him. She shook her head as leaned over his ears.  
  
"Wake up!" and the next moment he was in his quarters, without her, in the rigid reality.

* * *

Next day the whole Circle seemed so surreal. Like the Fade, their shared dreams were the reality and Kinloch Hold was a twisted nightmare from what they couldn't wake up. There were rules, walls, always watching eyes. There were nowhere to hide, just conceal, playing roles.  
  
He still felt the sweetness of her lips on his tongue. The illusion of the Fade gave him the courage to do what he wanted since the moment he saw her at the training grounds. But in the reality, it was indecent and sinful. In his templar armor, the guilt overwhelmed him. He should be the statue of temperance, perseverance, cannot be seduced by two beautiful eyes.  
  
Solona came toward in her training clothes. She was readying for her last trial before her Harrowing. She practiced relentlessly at the training grounds for her duel, regardless everybody knew she will pass it. Jowan was beside her. She giggled and smiled joyfully as she spoke with the other apprentice.  
  
“Are you going to the training grounds?" Cullen inquired as they passed beside him.  
  
"Yes. Care to join?" Solona replied in casual tone. Too casual, like nothing happened. She was impulsive and reckless but smart enough to realize that what they did is forbidden in the reality. They played roles in this twisted play. The templar and the mage girl.  
  
"It would be a fairly unequal fight, mage," he chuckled.  
  
"Your call, Templar." she answered with a light smirk on her face as they vanished through the gates.  
  
Cullen couldn't resist but followed them to the training grounds. He went to the balcony over the preparation area. As he entered the first thing he heard was her tinkling voice. He went to the railings and leaned on it to hear what they speaking.  
  
"Would you stop it? You are driving me crazy with your humming." Jowan sulked as they readied.  
  
"Did I do it again?" she tweeted sweetly.  
  
"Yes. And it's very annoying. Just like your obvious flirting with the Templar." his voice was annoyed but mocking. "Have you shown him the astrarium yet?"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," she riposted. Her voice was so natural, so casual that truly fascinated Cullen. Like nothing happened. "We are here to practice. Two weeks and I have to pass my trial. And you should practice too. You still can't cast a Winter's Grasp properly."  
  
Jowan snickered tauntingly as they left the preparation area. "How touchy we are." And they positioned in basic stance, readying their staffs. "Who will be your opponent?" he inquired.  
  
"Uldred," she replied. And she cast her first spell. It was unexpected. She never attacked first and it was a very light one. Even Jowan could evade it. As they progressed Cullen realized that she restrained herself. She didn't want to defeat her, just helping to develop.  
  
Cullen so loved to watch her dueling. She was so graceful, so lively when she was at the training grounds. She was in her element there like she was born to fight.  
  
"You like her, don't you?" Cullen didn't notice his fellow templar beside him until she addressed him.  
  
Driandra.  
  
His roommates sometimes joked around that she has affection for him. She was pretty in her cold and crusty way, but she had no effect on Cullen. She looked like an iron maiden in her templar armor. Her lineaments were hard, without any feminine and soft curves. Her skin calloused by the sword practice. and her scent like musk.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous." He answered, trying to force some tranquility on himself, not letting his expressions or voice betray him. "She is my charge."  
  
" _I’m not blind_ , Cullen!" she yelled at him. "Nor the Knight-Commander. I see how you look at her. But you should never forget that she is a mage and one of the most dangerous among them," Cullen scratched his gauntleted hands on the railing, leaving deep scrapes on the stone surface.  
  
It was so typical. Nobody understood her, just saw a powerful mage, not the sensitive girl who was alone against the whole world and yet don't need anybody's help or pity.  
  
"Is she looking dangerous to you?" he pointed to Solona who cast her lightest spells on Jowan, carefully guarding to not cause any damage.  
  
Driandra snorted. “She is just playing now. But have you ever seen her fighting for real? How powerful her spells are? Of course, you did." she turned to him and took her hand on Cullen's shoulder to emphasise her words. "You and I both know that she could easily burn down this whole place down with a wildfire. Even Greagoir fears her."  
  
"She is different than the other mages." Cullen hissed but in that very moment, he couldn't decide that he want to convince her or himself.  
  
_A templar is a shield who protects the innocents from the harms of magic._  
  
"But hypothetically could you kill her if she became an abomination or she was possessed? Or could you perform the Rite of Tranquility on her?" Cullen looked away. He knew he couldn't. The idea itself horrified him. A templar shouldn't think like this. A mage should be an abomination who deserved to be locked up. She should be an abomination...  
  
"I thought so," Driandra continued. "There are regulations and for a good reason. She is everything we stand against and beyond. You should forget her for your own sake." A blast shook the training grounds. Solona knocked Jowan out and with a satisfied smirk looked up to the balcony, right into Cullen's eyes.  
  
He knew she was dangerous. He knew as a dreamer she was more vulnerable for demon possession. He knew what should have been his obligation.  
  
_A templar is a sword against the army of demons._  
  
And a templar always knows his duty. That was the reality and the Fade was only a sweet dream.  
  
"Excuse me." he heaved and left the balcony and went to his quarters.  
  
He felt the growing and pulsating pain in his temple, knew that it is time for a new dosage of lyrium. It always gave him certainty. As the blue substance ran through his veins burning it in cold fire, inundate him with power makes things clear, fades every agony. But not a lyrium made him a templar. The dedication, the perseverance, the temperance. The faith in the Maker.  
  
Cullen Stanton Rutherford was a templar. And he was weak, let the desire for a mage girl poison his thoughts with indecent fantasies.  
  
But Solona Amell wasn't just a mage. She was a mirage, a psyche, the fire itself. Something beautifully pure and agonizingly sinful. She was brighter than the blessed Andraste herself. And Cullen worshiped her.  
  
He drank up the lyrium with this blasphemous thought and groaned. In his frustration that the Maker tested his faith and he failed every single time. By the pain as his veins burned in cold fire but widens everything in him. The lyrium has always given him certainty.  
  
Soon the piercing pain in his head faded and the drowsiness conquered him. He laid on his bed and after long minutes staring the whitewashed ceiling he fell asleep.

* * *

He was woken up around midnight. As he slowly opened his eyes saw Solona. Her hair was loose, falling on her shoulder like it was a cascade of flames on her head. She took her index finger to his mouth to prevent any voice, to not wake up anybody. She leaned over his ear. Her locks touched his cheeks, making him smell her intoxicating scent. Cullen wanted to inhale it deeply until it makes him feel drunk.  
  
"Come with me, Cullen." She whispered and took his hand, dragged out from the bed. She led him through the corridors and narrow caracoles until they reached the top floor of the Hold.  
  
_The astrarium._  
  
It was a great chamber with crystal dome. The whole night sky was visible like they were under the open air. It was a clear night, no clouds on the sky. Just the moon and the shining stars. It was breathtaking as the stars like diamonds sparkled on the black sea of the endless universe.  
  
"This is my favorite place here." She said as led him to the center of the chamber. "I found it when I explored the Circle for the first time. Next day I scrounged a book from the library about astronomy and I learned all of the constellations. I spent whole nights here gazing the stars." She cast down her eyes coyly and Cullen could swear that her cheeks turned to rosy again. "You are the first who I show this place."  
  
She took some uncertain steps toward Cullen. "Close your eyes," she commanded. Cullen looked at her questioningly, like he relived the last night they spent together in the Fade. "I won't bite," she whispered playfully.  
  
Cullen obeyed. And a few moments later he felt cold drops melting on his face. As he opened his eyes he saw that there was a snowfall under the dome. She created a cloud just above them and the snowflakes gently drifted down on them and slowly a blanket of snow covered the whole astrarium.  
  
" _Happy Birthday Cullen._ " Even he forgot about his own birthday. But she remembered it. How could he release such a marvelous and thoughtful girl? She wasn't a mage or an abomination. She was the most beautiful creature of the Maker.  
  
As the last drop fell from the cloud with a swift movement she made the snowflakes swirl around them. It was like those snow globes that he saw in the 'Wonders of Thedas' in Denerim when he was a little child. He told her at one of their dreamwalks that he had always wanted one, but they were too expensive for his parents to afford. She remembered his words and now she gave one to him. It was the most wonderful gift he has ever got.  
  
As the flakes slowly settled down again she formatted small flames in her hand to light the place. In the sparkling whiteness of the snow blanket and the dim light of her fire, she looked like a mirage. A beautiful daydream that nobody can reach just admire... or worship.  
  
"I love fire." She said as glanced the flames in her hand. "It understands me. Reflects on me. It's a living thing in my hand, pulsating like a heartbeat." She grabbed his hand and guided over her fire. "Do you feel it too?" Cullen could say nothing, just nodded, trying to swallow that knot in his throat. "It is free and indomitable. You can never control it just understand. It is beautiful."  
  
"Just like you." he heaved. Solona raised her eyes to him. The flames vanished from her hand and released his. They just stared each other and as many times before, everything froze around them. She closed her eyes, waiting for him to kiss her, to feel her for real, not just through their dreams. Cullen took a step forward and began to near his lips to hers. His every fiber trembled for her, ached for her.  
  
_A templar is the consecrated warrior of the Maker against the eternal whisper of demons._  
  
Cullen Stanton Rutherford was a templar. He was dutiful knowing his place in the world. In the world where thick walls divided them.  
  
He slowly began to take steps backward and shook his head. Solona opened her eyes and looked confused.  
  
"This isn't right," he tried to force himself, but every word was like a cutting blade in his own flesh. "You are a mage and I am a templar. And there are regulations. Fraternization is strictly forbidden between the two fractions."  
  
"Wait, what? We cannot be friends now?" she asked incredulously.  
  
"You are my charge. My responsibility," every word created a crack on his soul, but there was no turning back. "My task is to keep you leashed.”  
  
Solona squeezed her eyes and looked away. She breathed heavy and bit her lower lips. When she opened her eyes again it glistened with the unshed tears but her glance became different, cold.  
  
"If you want this, so be it, _Templar_ ," as she spat out the last word it was like poison on her tongue. And she stormed out, leaving him among the ruins of her beautiful gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We are striving after what is forbidden and coveting what is denied us." it is a phrase from Methamorphosis by Ovid.
> 
> The snowglobe scene is my personal favorite :) - It might sound stuck-up to have one in my own story but still.
> 
> Anyway, thoughts about the chapter?
> 
> Don't hesitate to tell me your opinion :)


	7. The Raging Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Solona and Cullen deal with the consequences of the templar's decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of fight :)
> 
> Switches between Solona and Cullen POV

Solona stood in the middle of the training grounds, surrounded by unconscious opponents and rampaging flames. It pulsated as she took her deep breaths. It burned her skin, consumed everything around her, filling the air with the smell of destruction. She wanted to burn everything and everybody into ashes and nothing could ease this passion in her.  
  
No matter how much she wearied herself, her magic surged in her violently, tearing her veins, like she bathed in lyrium potion, like it ingrained into her skin and now with it her energies wanted to break free, wanted to consume her. It whirled in her like an unstoppable storm, raged, just like the flames around her.  
  
A stupid templar ruined everything.  
  
He rejected her. _HER._  
  
She couldn't decide what hurt more. That she was a little flapper who believed in fairy tales or that her pride was violated by an always blushing, goody-goody templar. He just played with her and she was fool enough to fall for him. Anders was right. Love was for lunatics.  
  
The tears were like acid in her eyes and the lump in her throat was like studded ball she couldn't swallow. Her every fiber trembled by her anger and agony. Something wanted to tear her apart from inside. Something she couldn't fight against. There was no spell to ease this pain; no meditation helped her to calm down. Like poison flowed through her veins instead of blood.  
  
_Solona Amell never cries._ She commanded herself.  
  
She wasn't a frightened little girl anymore. She trained herself, practiced, learned to pass her Harrowing and now it was useless. She had to duel with Uldred next day and she couldn't even control her own body. She was a powerful mage, a threat and they just needed one tiny reason to make a Tranquil of her, she knew. If she fails even Irving can't help her.  
  
She cried out in her frantic helplessness, and as she did the flames around her darted to the sky. And as the last drop of breath left her lungs slowly the fire also pacified and vanished eventually. She stood in the middle of the scorched training ground on the verge of crying and tried to collect her every willpower to prevent it.  
  
The sound of claps echoed. She looked up to the balcony above and saw Uldred measuring her with those hateful brown eyes and with that complacent smirk on his face. "Impressive performance from such a slip of a girl like you." He was jovial. And this just increased her anger. "I always thought that Irving is a fool restraining you. I would have been a better mentor for you, letting your true potentials come to the surface. You are the raging fire, which destroys everything and what everybody fears."  
  
Solona clenched her fingers, deepened her nails into her skin as much as she could. She didn't want to hear his words. They were lies. She wasn't like this, she wasn't an abomination.  
  
Her tears trickled down her cheeks. They were like acid, burning her skin. She looked up on the balcony once again, but he was nowhere. And suddenly dead silence fell on the whole Kinloch Hold. Like she was the only one there. Like she was the only living one in a tomb. The air around her became thick and choking, filled with desperation. And as she looked around saw piles of scorched corpses. She saw Irving's, Wynne' and Jowan's charred bodies.  
  
"This isn't real. This can't be real." the revelation hit her hard. She was in the Fade, stuck in a nightmare from what she needed to escape. She squeezed her eyes and commanded herself to wake up.  
  
"Are you going somewhere?" she heard from behind. It was his voice. She didn't need to see it know, it was a demon masquerading Cullen.  
  
"You are not him," she answered, still not opening her eyes. "You are just a demon, trying to fool me," she heard it chuckling, felt its heat as circled her. It had his scent. Incense and wax. The smell of the chapel where he always prayed.  
  
"Smart girl," it mocked her. "A little girl playing with the fire. Just do not burn yourself, like you did with the others," it leaned over her ears, feeling its hot breath, making her skin crawl. "It would be such a waste making you a Tranquil." It was his voice and the cruelty in it made her every muscle tremble.  
  
And the next moment she startled from her nightmare with a choked scream, bathing in cold sweat. Her every muscle shuddered and she battled for air. She looked around gladly registering that she was in her dormitory, and she didn't wake anybody up. She still heard the demons words echoing in Cullen's voice, frightening her to death.  
  
She sat up and embraced her legs, burying her face into her knees. "It was just a bad dream," she tried to convince herself, but it seemed empty words, not giving any comfort.  
  
"Solona, is everything all right?" she heard from Surana's sleepy voice from the bed next to her. "You seem distressed," _Solona Amell never shows any weakness_. Especially not to Surana, even if once in a lifetime she seemed to care. She swallowed a big one, tried to swallow her urge to cry taking some deep breaths. She looked up, right into her metal-blue eyes and forced a smile on her face.  
  
"I'm just anxious about the trial, Neria," she answered. "Sorry for waking you up." Surana nodded and laid back on her bed. Solona did the same, but she couldn't sleep, just tossed and turned until the morning reached her.

* * *

She was readying for her duel, for her last trial before her Harrowing. As she got ready at the preparation area and heard the people at the training grounds she began to panic. Not because of her unwanted audience, but the emotions in her she still couldn't control and that made her magic surge in her so violently she could barely keep it at bay. She was angry and scared and this made her vulnerable. And she knew that the whole Circle waited for her outside to see her ascending, more likely falling. That’s why they chose Uldred because he was the only one who could defeat her.  
  
She tried to control her breaths, tried to calm down, but her every attempt made her more anxious and more furious.  
  
"Apprentice Amell, are you ready?" a Tranquil asked her.  
  
No. Everything in her screamed, but she just nodded, grabbed her staff and entered the training grounds.  
  
As she stepped in she looked around. The balconies were full, feeling their glance on her skin. They were there to see her failure, but she won't allow them this satisfaction.  
  
Uldred was waiting for her with that confident smirk on his face. Solona knew his certainty of defeating her and this was just oil on her already raging fire. She clenched her fingers into a tight fist, as she felt a fireball formatting in her hand. She stood before her and waited patiently as usual. But Uldred was patient either.  They stared each other for minutes trying to break the another.  
  
She realized that Uldred tried to use her strategy against her. But she needed to be unpredictable, so she cast that fireball to him which almost burnt her hand but he evaded it easily. She cast spells to him, very powerful spells. With one she set ablaze the whole grounds with another she created enormous ice spikes and the whole Hold echoed her thunders, but it seemed Uldred knew her every motion even before she.  
  
At some point, Uldred cast a thunder whip on her, which broke her skin and made her scream and collapse.  
  
"Is that all your star apprentice got, Irving?" he taunted her mentor.  
  
She tried to swallow her pain. She still felt that the electric jolts shake her whole body and make her tremble. As she touched the wound that Uldred's spell caused she realized that she was bleeding. She watched the sticky red blood on her fingers and something broke in her.  
  
Uldred didn't play by the rules. He wanted to humiliate her; he wanted to humiliate Irving by defeating his favorite apprentice. But Uldred was prideful, as prideful as herself. And now that she was on the ground he felt that he has power over her. And she knew that his attention slackened.  
  
She looked up to Irving who didn't stop the duel, despite the obvious abuse of the rules; he wanted her to stand up and fight. So she obeyed to her mentor's will and cast a paralyzing barrier on Uldred, and a tall fire circle around hiding them from their audience. It was rampaging, consuming, just like the emotions in her, which gave her frightening power. A power she has never experienced before.  
  
"Would you pay attention to me, Senior Enchanter?" She asked as ceased the spell around him. She needed to be confident, mocking him. She had to break his pride.  
  
"What an insolent little chit you are. From the high, you can fall really hard," He replied as cast an ice spell which she could easily evade.  
  
"I see without your audience you are not so confident, are you?" she continued as he cast a stone fist, what she dodged with a barrier and right after it she cast a crushing prison around him, making him immobile. As he struggled with her entwining magic, she confidently walked to him and looked into his deep brown eyes. She felt as her magic deepens into his flesh and there was such a temptation to tighten it as much as she could until the world darkens around him. And the most frightening was she really wanted to do it.  
  
"You need more than that to defeat me, old man," she hissed instead. As she turned around and walked away ceased the spell around him. She knew that she broke him. A seventeen-year-old apprentice mocks the Senior Enchanter, who was the successor of Irving. A girl who is already better than he.  
  
And she was right. As her magic released him, he cast an arcane bolt to her. She turned swiftly and evaded it with a barrier and the next moment she made him fall with a fire blast. It was hard but he didn't lose his consciousness. She had enough time to slowly and confidently walk to him and point her staff to his throat and extinguished the flames around them. "I believe I defeated you, Senior Enchanter," Uldred could have killed her with his eyes but he had no other choice, but yield.  
  
_She passed her trial._  
  
And as the adrenaline slowly withdrew from her body the world became very sharp around her. She felt her blood trickling down her arm from her aching cut. She felt her consuming rage again and heard her own rapidly beating heart. Her every muscle trembled once again and those tears burned her eyes.  
  
This wasn't the triumph it supposed to be. She wanted to cremate everything and everybody into ashes. She wanted to destroy everything to revenge every invisible bruise they caused on her with their hatred, malice, and prejudice. She wanted to hurt Cullen for breaking her heart. In that very moment, she hated everybody in that damned world.  
  
She bit her lip so hard that felt the coppery taste of her own blood in her mouth. But no pain could ease what ate her from inside.  
  
_Solona Amell never breaks._ She commanded herself and looked up to the balconies right into Cullen's eyes.

* * *

After that night in the astrarium, Solona never spoke to him again. More likely ignored him, like he was invisible. Cullen could fulfill his duty properly. They built walls between them. And his mind knew that this was the only rational thing to do. That was the thing everybody expected from him. Cullen Stanton Rutherford was a templar and Solona Amell was a mage. The natural order of the world has restored.  
  
But still, he often found himself searching for her tender smile or sniffing her scent cloud she left behind. And even in his dreams he searched for her, but when he found her, he could never reach him, never could give her an explanation never could ask her forgiveness. It was a torture, the punishment of the Maker for desiring a forbidden girl. Or that was the thing he should believe in. But instead, he was sure he lost the best thing in his life. Even it was sinful or forbidden.  
  
He was there to see her trial. Her last one before her Harrowing. He stood between the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander and prayed silently. Begged to Andraste to make her triumph show her aptitude to this hypocrite Circle and most of all to not make him perform the Rite of Tranquility on her. Greagoir made it clear for Irving that this trial will decide Solona's fate.  
  
Uldred volunteered to be her opponent. And Cullen perfectly knew the reason. He wanted to annihilate her, break her. He hated her talent, her confidence and most of all he hated Irving. He wanted to humiliate him by defeating his most precious apprentice.  
  
As Solona entered the grounds he saw that something wasn't right. She was in a tense pose, her every step was forced. She was always casual when she dueled but now seemed anxious or more likely furious. She stood before Uldred and they stared each other. He knew that he wanted to annihilate her.  And soon she lost her patience and cast her first spell.  
  
"That is unexpected from her. She usually isn't so hasty," Senior Enchanter stated  as she and Irving watched her duel.  
  
"I'm worried about her," Irving replied. "She was so upset lately. I wanted to delay her trial, but she insisted." Cullen raised his eyebrow to this. She seemed so furious as she cast her spells. She shouted and groaned as they left her staff. She was always focused and considered at the training grounds, but now she cast her spells almost blindly.  
  
"Something clearly happened to her. I shouldn't let her fight," the First Enchanter's words were filled with fatherly worry. Cullen perfectly knew what happened to her. Why she acted so differently lately. And he wanted to apologize. It was his fault, that letting her too close.  
  
And suddenly Uldred wounded her and with a scream she fell to the ground. As he mocked Irving Cullen eyes only could see her bleeding cut. He involuntarily touched the hilt of his sword. He looked through the balconies and saw the satisfied smirks. It seemed he defeated her.  
  
"He made her bleed. It is against rules. We have to stop this!" Wynne protested but Irving stopped her.  
  
"She has to stand up from this. The only way to defeat him, that she defeat herself at first." Solona looked up to Irving. Her trembles hinted that Uldred hurt her painfully. But she stood up. It was like she understood what the First Enchanter wanted from her. And she paralyzed Uldred,  cast a fire circle around them and they disappeared behind it completely.  
  
Cullen felt its hotness on his skin, it almost burnt him. It was more rampaging than ever before, and in that moment Driandra's words made sense. It was frightening and consuming, only her willpower kept it at bay. But they just couldn't make a Tranquil of her. It would be a murder. They would kill the fire in her.  
  
When the firewall disappeared he saw that Solona pointed her staff to the laying Uldred. She defeated him, despite he played dirty. And as he yielded and she lowered her staff, she looked back to the balcony again and their eyes met. It blazed in fury and agony. She panted heavily and swallowed big ones. And he realized that she was on the verge of crying.  
  
She slowly regained her composure and ceremonially curtsied for her unwanted audience. "I hope you were properly entertained." She yelled to them, while her eyes were still on Cullen. Her voice trembled but she didn't allow them the satisfaction to see her crying, so she dropped down her staff and left the grounds.  
  
"Well, that was spectacular," Greagoir stated stoically as turned to Irving. "I think your little apprentice gave us many things to discuss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so bad in fight scenes - sorry :)
> 
> Anyway thoughts about the chapter?


	8. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Enchanter Irving and Knight-Commander Greagoir are still debating about Solona's Harrowing.

"Is she dangerous?" Greagoir asked Cullen's opinion. They were in his office debated for hours now without any success.  
  
_Of course, she is, haven't you seen her at the training grounds?_ His rationality screamed, but everything else in him just couldn't let him say it out. Cullen knew that Greagoir seriously considered the Rite of Tranquility. And her trial would even justify it. She was so frightening so wild, her fire so rampaging, scorching everything. And the rage what blazed in her eyes. For a moment Cullen believed that she could burn everybody to ashes.  
  
"Despite her performance today I have no reason to consider her as a danger." he lied. The Knight-Commander surveyed him suspiciously. Cullen tried to be seemed confident, standing tall and proud like a templar he was supposed to be, trying to coop the urge to rub the nape of his neck. He suspected that Greagoir knew about his affection or at least he heard some hushed whispers. Cullen wondered if his suspicions were true why he didn't dishonorably discharge him or relieve him from his duty.  
  
"You see, Greagoir, even your own man says she is harmless." Irving tried to persuade him.  
  
"You are biased, Irving." the Knight-Commander burst out. "She is almost like your daughter. And I'm not certain about the Knight-Lieutenant's objectivity either." And he took a long and demanding glare to Cullen, who couldn't be smaller or be more ashamed in that moment,  
  
"Ser, have I ever given a reason to you to doubt me?" he asked. He tried to be unflinching like a templar he ever wanted to be. And soon Greagoir's strict expression eased a bit.  
  
"You have to admit, Greagoir that Uldred fought dirty down there. She just adapted," Senior Enchanter Wynne chimed in. "Solona has a very hard life here. Many wanted to see her fail today."  
  
"You are also biased, Wynne," Greagoir yelled to her. "You treat her with Irving like your own child. You don't see her true self," Cullen managed to prevent a grimace and a snort. The Knight-Commander didn't see her true self either. They saw a mage girl, an abomination, an apprentice, but none of them saw the real Solona Amell.  
  
"Why don't we ask her, what happened down there? We have already heard Uldred's point of view." Wynne suggested. "Every story has two sides and we should listen to hers too if we want to make an objective decision,” Greagoir grimaced but reluctantly agreed. They fetched an apprentice for her, and a few moments later she entered.  
  
Every eye fixed on her. Solona stood there in a straight posture, her hands behind her back behind her back, like a model student who didn't regret anything. She was calm, only her slightly bloodshed eyes hinted she had cried before. Cullen wondered that it was only a play knowing what was at stake or that consuming rage has finally left her.  
  
She went right to her mentor who put his hands on her shoulder soothingly. "My child, your trial was quite an unusual one," he said.  
  
"The Senior Enchanter wanted to humiliate me, and you, Master," it wasn't an apology or an excuse; it was a simple and dry statement without any remorse. "I just couldn't let him."  
  
"Uldred has gone too far, indeed, my child," Irving comforted her. "But you have seemed upset, lately. Do you have a special reason for that?" For a quick and invisible moment, Solona took a glance to Cullen, but he was sure that nobody noticed it, except him.  
  
"It was just anxiety, Master. The preparation for this trial took too much of me. I should listen to you earlier to delay it," she lowered her eyes like a penitent pupil. "I'm sorry for my impatience and hubris," she was mild and humble. Cullen couldn't decide that it was just really part of an act or she really meant her words.  
  
Irving released a soft smile, kissed her forehead and dismissed her.  
  
"She _is_ ready, Greagoir," Wynne said as the door closed behind Solona. "Admit it already. I don't want to go away to Ostagar without the certainty of her fate. Do you realize that you consider making Tranquil one of the most talented mages of our time because there is a slight possibility to turn an abomination? She is a dreamer for the sake of Andraste. Do you honestly think that the demons haven’t already tried to possess her, to consume her?" As more and more words left her mouth, she became more and more short-tempered. Irving hushed her and turned to the Knight-Commander.  
  
"I offer you a deal, Greagoir. Let her perform the Harrowing. If she fails, you will kill her anyway. If she passes she won't get the exemption from Tranquility," Wynne wanted to protest, but Irving silenced her with a gesture. "If there will be any sign of demonic possession, I will order the performance of the Rite myself and next day I will resign."  
  
Greagoir leaned over his desk and narrowed his already thin mouth. "You give too much credit to the girl."  
  
Irving leaned at the other side and looked deeply into the Knight-Commander’s eyes. "She earned it."  
  
Heavy silence pestered on the office as they waited for Greagoir's answer. Cullen almost heard his own heartbeat which pounded like an air hammer in his chest.  
  
"So be it, she can perform the Harrowing tonight," Irving and Wynne relieved, as well as Cullen, but he couldn't show it. He knew that Greagoir watches his every reaction. The Knight-Commander turned to him.  
  
"You will be there too, son. As she is your charge you should be the one who makes the final blow if she turns to an abomination." The world around Cullen darkened. His face became chalk-white and he felt the rising bile in his throat. For a desperate moment, he hoped he misunderstood the order. It was beyond reason, to kill her with his own hands.  
  
" _Is that a problem_ , Knight-Lieutenant?" Greagoir's always examining eyes ran through Cullen. It was a test, he knew, so he gathered all of his remained reason, strength, and composure, tried to coop his increasing nausea and stood at attention.  
  
"No, ser. Of course not." he lied again. Greagoir hummed and nodded but Cullen wasn't sure that he was convinced or he passed his test.  
  
They gathered in the Harrowing Chambers at midnight. As Solona entered every eye fixed on her. She seemed unshakable and brave. She didn't look at Cullen, just went right to the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander. They briefly explained her about the ritual and then she drank the lyrium. And the next moment she entered the Fade.  
  
Cullen prayed to the Maker to bring her back and not force him to kill her. His stomach was in spasm and he squeezed the hilt of his sword so hard that almost broke his nails. But she passed the Harrowing.  
  
As soon as she returned into her body, as herself, she fainted and collapsed to the floor. Cullen wanted to rush to her take her unconscious body to his arms and kiss her. He almost did it, but the next moment two apprentice appeared with a stretcher and took her away.

* * *

Almost three days passed until he saw Solona again.  She looked still a bit dizzy but she was right. He recited thanksgiving prayers in himself for it. She became _Junior Enchanter Amell_ and moved to her new quarters.  
  
She was on her way to the First Enchanter's office. His Warden guest was very interested in meeting her, which made him distressed considering the news that came from Ostagar about the darkspawn presence.  
  
As she walked before him she took a quick and cold glance on him and he grabbed this opportunity to talk with her.  
  
"Enchanter Amell," he addressed her.  
  
"Knight-Lieutenant Rutherford," she replied in stringent voice.  
  
"I just... I just..." He stammered and rubbed the nape of his neck. He didn't care that he looks like an idiot anymore, but he wasn't sure how could he speak with her after what happened in the astrarium. "I'm just glad to see that your Harrowing went smoothly," she nodded and wanted to walk away, but he didn't let her, not this time.  
  
"I was the templar in charge to strike the killing blow if you became..." his voice trailed off. He couldn't use that word on her.  
  
Solona's lips turned to a sarcastic smile. "Good to know," she replied and wanted to walk away once again, but Cullen stopped her.  
  
"It's nothing personal, I swear." he felt himself as a moron, searching the right words but nothing seemed appropriate. And she just stood there, didn't say anything just watched his fumbling. "But I serve the Maker and the Chantry and I do as I commanded." It was like he made his own situation worse by every word.  
  
"What a dutiful templar you are, Cullen," she stated derisive tone. Her words were like twisting daggers in his flesh. She wanted to walk away But Cullen didn't let her, not until she listens through what he wanted to say.  
  
So he reached out to her and grabbed her arm. He felt the warmth of her body even through his glove and it sent tingling shivers down his spine.  
  
"Solona, wait!" He almost pleaded. She didn't look at him but didn't pull his hands away either. "I'm just glad that you're all right, you know. And I wanted to tell you I'm sorry. I was an idiot and I never wanted to hurt you. But I miss..." He swallowed a big one and tried to gather his all courage to continue. "...you and I miss our talks. I miss being your friend." Solona looked at her, and her eyes glistened with tears.  
  
"What about the shit that I'm a mage and you are a templar?" she asked. Cullen didn't care about it anymore. He wanted that mage girl back he almost kissed in the astrarium. He wanted to see that soft smile and the sparkling of her eyes. He wanted to be near her again.  
  
"You are Solona Amell, a girl from the Free Marches, who loves to sneak out in the middle of the night to gaze the stars. A girl who made a snow globe for my birthday. A girl who loves to play with the fire. You are not the Fiery Witch, you are the fire itself. And the fire cannot be cold like ice," she closed her eyes and Cullen saw the tears trickling down her cheeks.  
  
"It can." She whispered and a sharp pain stabbed through Cullen, but when she opened her eyes her lips curved into a perky smile, what Cullen so loved. "You obviously haven't heard about veilfire."  
  
And in her free hand tiny, greenish bluish flames were formatted. She led his holding palm over it and she was right, it was cold. Cullen chuckled in his relief. Solona blew out the flames and looked into Cullen eyes.  
  
"Do you have some time? We should..."  
  
"Solona, there you are.” Jowan interrupted them. "We need to speak. It is urgent." They both took a sharp breath and Solona turned to the apprentice.  
  
"Cannot wait, Jowan?" her voice was annoyed. And Cullen so hated the apprentice in that moment. He was almost there to make things right and this grease ball now ruined everything.  
  
"No, as I said, it is _urgent_. It is a matter of life and death," it sounded very serious. Solona grimaced, excused herself and went away with him.

* * *

What happened after this was unclear to Cullen. He only heard the order that every templar on the floor had to rush to the phylactery storage.  
  
And they found her there, sitting on the floor, staring a pool of blood with glassy eyes, her every muscle trembling and her robe stained with the sanguine fluid. Next to her a red-headed initiated was crying frantically, embracing herself with her arms. And the Knight-Commander, the First Enchanter and his Warden guest, trying to get up, covered with gore.  
  
Solona looked up on Cullen. Her lips trembled, and he saw something in her eyes that never before. She was broken. " _I didn't know,_ " she mouthed to him, but no voice came out.  
  
"I knew it was a mistake letting her perform the Harrowing." Greagoir spat to her, but she didn't react just stared Cullen and trembled. "Take the sister to the underground cells." He ordered and the two templars dragged the still sobbing initiated away.  
  
"What have you done, my child?" asked Irving as crouched to her. Solona looked at her mentor, still shaking in her every muscle, her hands in the pool of blood.  
  
"I didn't know he is a blood mage," she muttered and Cullen's heart skipped a beat. The lightest punishment for helping a blood mage was a dark and dirty cell deep in the Aeonar. But he was certain that they would sentence her to death. "I just wanted to help him. I trusted him," her voice trembled.  
  
She looked at her hands, covered with another mage's blood, tainted with dark magic. She sat there broken, trembling, but she couldn't cry. Cullen couldn't believe how the world could turn so upside down in a few hours. Like they weren't in the reality but in a twisted nightmare from what they couldn't wake up.  
  
"What did you do in the vault, my child," asked the First Enchanter in his most gentle voice, trying to calm her down.  
  
"I helped to destroy his phylactery," she admitted in such a low voice that it was hardly louder than a whisper.  
  
"At least you are honest,” Greagoir snorted. “So you admit it?”  
  
"I didn't know he was a _blood mage_ ," she repeated the same mantra over and over again. Irving and his Warden guest helped her to get up. She still trembled and her weak legs barely held her. Cullen was sure that the next moment she would faint.  
  
"I wish you came to me first, my child." he hugged her. “You know the consequences. don't you?" his voice was filled with heartbreaking sorrow and he tightened her arms around her as much as he could. Solona nodded.  
  
"Get her out of my sight," Greagoir commanded and two templars practically tore her away from Irving's embrace.  
  
"I invoke the _Right of Conscription_ ," the Warden declared. The Knight-Commander wanted to object, but he reminded him about the ancient right of the Greys which couldn't be denied. So Greagoir could do nothing but command his soldiers to release her. "If she is as strong as you claim, I could use her at Ostagar. King Cailan's army gathers there. We want to end the Blight before it truly begins."  
  
Cullen's heart skipped a beat. They wanted to drag her into a battle, into a war. He wanted to rescue her from the Circle, from the claws of the templars, from the conscription, but his legs rooted. He could do nothing, just watched the whole scene powerlessly.  
  
Solona looked into her mentor's eyes. "What should I do, Master?" she pleaded for guidance  
  
"It is your choice, my child. I cannot tell you what you should do, but I can tell you that I rather see you among the Wardens than in the depth of a prison cell. Or lying dead in a cold tomb," and he shot a long and disdainful glare to Greagoir.  
  
Solona closed her eyes, took a deep breath and when she opened again straightened herself again and she was that brave mage girl again against the whole world.  
  
"You have me, Warden-Commander Duncan," she said as turned to the Warden who gently touched her back and guided her to the exit.  
  
"Come, your new life has begun." he said and they were about to leave.  
  
Cullen couldn't move. As they exited their eyes met and he saw that she is scared. Her face was unflinching but her eyes were frightened, like a little girl who lost in the forest and pleads for help.  
  
She walked away beside him and he wanted to reach out to her, but he couldn't. And she just vanished behind the gates and he didn't do anything, just stood there, feeling that his soul cracks into tiny shards. He screamed inside but nothing reached the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally we left Kinloch Hold and Solona can hit the road to Ostagar...
> 
> Anyway, thoughts about the chapter?


	9. Join Us, Brothers and Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duncan and Solona arrive in Ostagar, where she has to perform her Joining, but before that she has to obtain some darkspawn blood in the company of a junior Warden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I would like to thank everybody who left kudos or/and a comment or follow my story. You give me many motivation to write and you always make my day. I love you, really :)
> 
> And now... here comes Alistair (for my greatest pleasure) :)
> 
> Switches between Solona and Alistair POV

Solona watched the fading Kinloch Hold from the ferry. More than a decade since she had seen it for the last time. It was more than a decade she stepped through the main gates of the Circle. But it wasn't the joyful feeling what it supposed to. She was betrayed and lonely. Jowan, her most trusted friend lied to her, used her, practiced forbidden magic. And she was so blind, helped him without question, without suspicion. She still felt the smell of the spilled blood on her skin, tainted and unholy. She stared the stained sleeves of her robe, her still shaking hands.  
  
Icy winds from the Frostback Mountains whizzed over the Lake Calenhad making her shudder. Even summer time Ferelden was chill and unfriendly. The Warden stood up in the already wobbling cockle, making it almost capsize. He put his bear hide coat on Solona. She thanked it with a coy and uncertain smile. She drew the fur together on herself tried to hide under it. It was like she was six years old again, torn away from home.  
  
Duncan sat back to its place. She stole a glance on him watched his grizzled hair around his temple, his thick black beard. But when their eyes met Solona looked away and fixated her glance on the reflection of the moon on the rippling water.  
  
"You know, it's more twenty years I was in Kinloch Hold for the first time." the Warden said. Solona registered it with nod still looking at the surface of the lake. "You can never get used to the cold. Even in summer Lake Calenhad is like an icehouse. Not that any part of Ferelden is warmer." She still didn't say anything. "How long you've been in the Circle?" he asked.  
  
"Eleven years." her answer was short and uncertain.  
  
"And how old are you?" she heard another question. She had the same feelings when she arrived at Kinloch Hold, like this conversation would be the mirror of when she arrived. But she wasn't a frightened little girl anymore. She shouldn't be afraid.  
  
So she straightened herself and looked straight into Duncan's dark brown eyes. "Seventeen."  
  
"You are almost a child," he hummed as the boat hit the side of the pier. He helped her to get out of the boat. Solona took a long last glance to Kinloch Hold. As she watched the silhouettes of the tall tower she knew she was a failure. She passed every trial and yet she became fallen enchanter. She betrayed his mentor's trust who risked so much for her.  
  
"We should spend the night in the inn," suggested the Warden. Solona followed her without a word.  
  
They spent their dinner in silence. Solona couldn't eat, just stared the food before her. Her stomach still churned and she couldn't force down even a mouthful of food. She just poked the stew with her fork and tried to avoid everybody's glance. Duncan was patient with her, not pestering with further questions.  
  
They got a cozy room for the night, with a view to the Circle. The innkeeper’s wife gave Solona clean clothes, burning her bloodstained ones and made a hot bath for her. But no matter how much she scrubbed still felt the smell of Jowan's blood on her skin.  
  
Solona couldn't sleep, just stared the Hold from the window and tried to figure out what was Cullen doing. He let this Warden dragging her away. He did nothing just stood there. She couldn't blame him. Rescuing her and fleeing from the templar hunters for a lifetime? They couldn't live like this. But she still felt that eating pain in her chest waving through her veins. She had no spell, no potion to ease it.  
  
Next day they roamed the Imperial Highway all day. They were silent, not speaking to each other. Duncan at the campfire asked questions from her about her studies, but her short answers always cut these conversations. Duncan was still patient, not pushing her, giving time to get used to her new life.  
  
She couldn't sleep, just stared the night sky and tried to recall the constellations and she always found herself lingering on her memory with Cullen in the astrarium. But eventually after the third sleepless night, the drowsiness conquered her and she fell asleep.  
  
She found herself in Kinloch Hold, wandering through the empty corridors, searching for Cullen to embrace her and reassure her that it was just a bad dream. But he was nowhere. She was alone feeling the blaming eyes on her skin. As she entered to her dormitory found Jowan there covered in blood from head to toe. Even her eyes rolled in blood, radiating madness. He was like a frantic unshackled beast. And from the walls the red, thick liquid trickled down, covering the room with it.  
  
"Don't fear the blood." he rattled. "It makes you _free_."  
  
And she startled from her nightmare, battling for air swimming in cold sweat. She looked at the peacefully sleeping Warden next to her. And she began to cry noiselessly. It shook her whole body as the tears streamed down her face. It finally truly reached her.  
  
_There was no turning back._

* * *

It took a week to reach Ostagar from Kinloch Hold. By the time Solona eased up in Duncan's company and tried to be more talkative with him, inquiring about the Wardens and the Blight he mentioned at the Circle. He answered her every question, told her stories even made her smile. He was kind and patient, almost like Irving making easier for Solona to accept her new life. Slowly even her nightmares faded away, only Cullen didn't let her go. He still occupied her thoughts, searched him in the Fade, but she couldn't walk in his dreams anymore. She lost him.  
  
Ostagar was impressive, even its ruins, surrounded by primeval magic. The Veil was so thin there that she could even hear the magnetic calling of the demons. They called her, whispered terrible things to her. Things she feared to hear and what she feared how much want to hear. Ostagar was like being in the Fade, her energy surged in her violently, causing waves of pain striking through her veins. It practically wanted to tear her apart.  
  
She took deep breaths as they passed through the bridge, tried to pacify her rampaging energies, to regain the control over herself. But it was harder than usual, feeling the erupting magic in her limbs, trying to prevent the formatting flames in her hand. She gladly registered that Duncan didn't notice her momentary insecurity.  
  
_Solona Amell never shows any weakness._ She commanded herself as they reached the King and his general.  
  
King Cailan was kind, more likely flirty, telling candied words to Solona taking mischievous glances on her like he perfectly knew how handsome he is in her eyes. His general Loghain was a different one. Stern and strict, measuring her disdainfully. He had the same hateful eyes like Uldred. It was so penetrating she couldn't even stand it.  
  
"I have to discuss something with the King. Go and find Alistair." Duncan ordered her.  
  
As she entered the army's encampment she instantly had the feeling that somebody watches her. It was like shuddering tendrils in her spine. She scanned the tents, the lines of the training soldiers and mages and suddenly her eyes met with the cruel brown ones of Uldred. They stared each other like two predators, ready to strike. Solona could swear that even the time froze around them. And she heard the demons again.  
  
_You are the raging fire, which destroys everything and what everybody fears._ No, she wasn't. She couldn't be.  
  
She felt a gentle stroke on her back, making her twitch. As she turned saw Wynne. She was so grateful to see a familiar and friendly face that couldn't resist but hugged the old mage. She stroke Solona's hair like a comforting mother.  
  
"Irving sent a message. I'm so sorry my dear." she comforted her. Solona's tears began to trickle down her cheeks again. Wynne released her and wiped her watery face. "But among the Wardens will be better for you, even if it seems impossible now."  
  
"I'm scared," she admitted. She was too tired to seem strong. She wanted to run away, back to Kinloch Hold to her mentor, to Cullen.  
  
Wynne hugged her once again. "I remember a little girl who came to the Circle. She was scared too. And look at her now. She is an enchanter and a Warden candidate. No matter what happens you should know Irving and I are proud of you." After what happened with Jowan it was hard to believe for Solona, but still, the old mage's kind words made her feel better. "And now off you go, before I become more sentimental. It comes with the age, I suppose." she chuckled sadly and left Wynne to find the Warden, named Alistair.

* * *

_Great, another mage. At least this one is pretty._ Alistair sulked as looked over the shoulder the arrogant mage who he was sent to deliver a message. He was so fed up that the revered mothers treated him like he was still part of the Chantry. Like he was still a templar recruit at the monastery mugging the Chant of Light.  
  
He saw a ginger haired girl coming to them. She seemed very young; maybe an apprentice accompanied her mentor. Alistair found her captivating, more likely mesmerizing. Her flaming hair was combed into a chignon, only an unruly lock was loose. Her eyes sparkled like two flawless emeralds. He didn't even hear what the mage told him anymore, just stared her.  
  
Eventually, he managed to get rid of the mage and the girl approached him. She looked at him expectantly, like she waited for something. Alistair wanted to say something witty and funny but as looked into her eyes nothing came into his mind.  
  
"You know..." he began "...one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together." Wasn't the best initial but at least not his worst. The girl's glance changed to questioning.  
  
"I'm sorry?" she asked.  
  
"It's like a party. We can all stand in a circle and hold hands. That would give something to the darkspawn to think about." Something deep inside whispered him that he make it worse with every word. The girl's face was serious, not even a light smile.  
  
"You must be Alistair," she sighed annoyed and he slowly realized that she is the Circle mage Duncan recruited. She was a mage, it was certain, arrogant and uppity. If nothing else the contempt in her gaze betrayed her.  
  
"And you must be the mage Duncan recruited," he answered. The girl nodded. "I should have recognized you right away. I apologize."  
  
"No offense taken. My name is Solona." she said in stringent voice. Alistair began to wonder that such a beautiful girl how to be so stuck up.  
  
"As the junior member of the Order, I'll accompany you when you prepare for the Joining." _And it will be so much fun with such an ice queen._ He added in himself. "So I'm curious. Have you ever actually encountered darkspawn before?" He asked but as soon as it left his mouth he realized how stupid question it was.  
  
Solona's mouth curved into a smile, but Alistair wasn't sure that it was a good sign. It was like piercing needles on his skin. "I spent my whole life in a Circle. What do you think?" She was so sniffy so arrogant even if she was a mage.  
  
"I'm sorry. It was a stupid question indeed," he said annihilated. At least she is pretty. He stated stoically again as escorted her to Duncan's campfire.

* * *

Solona surveyed Alistair. The first thing she noticed that he had remarkably similar eyes to the King. The second that he was remarkably similar to Cullen. He had lighter eyes like Alistair hazel ones but still they could be even brothers. And this somehow hurt her and made her hurt the Warden who really did everything to be kind with her. Solona missed Cullen and knowing that she will never see him again caused made her feel that eating pain in her chest once again.  
  
Even she didn't understand her hostile behavior, if not the lesson she was taught so well when Jowan flooded the hall with his own blood. Never trust anybody. Never let anybody close to you. Never let anybody to betray you. Never again.  
  
As they reached the campfire Solona noticed whimpering noises from the kennels. A mabari was dying. She approached it, but it barked and snarled at her threateningly. Solona stretched her palm and began to speak softly in Elvish. And it did the effect. She has never thought that those boring lessons about bestiary will be useful once. She crouched to the dog and ran her hand through its body, flowing her energies to it. The dog master confirmed her suspicion. It was tainted. She tried to recall her memories about herbology to find a cure for the poor animal.  
  
As she stood up noticed that Alistair watched her.  
  
" _What_?" She asked more adversely than she intended.  
  
"So you _have_ a heart," he stated stoically. "It's a shame just for animals." Solona narrowed her eyes and glared the Warden. At least animals won't betray or hurt me. She wanted to thor into his face but said nothing loud.  
  
Alistair examined the candidates as they wandered the Korcari Wild. Ser Jory, the knight from Redcliffe and Daveth, the pickpocket from Denerim were remarkably common. Nothing special in them. But the mage girl, Solona, she was a natural leader. She took charge of the group in no time. Not that any of them was capable of leading.  
  
It didn't take much time to bump into a group of darkspawn. But before they could react or draw out their weapon, Solona cremated them with a single fire spell.  
  
"We need their blood, not their ashes." Alistair chided her.  
  
"Ohh, sorry. Would you like me to reanimate them?" she asked with insolence in her tone, not showing any remorse or respect. Alistair clenched his fingers into a tight fist, tried to swallow his increasing anger, but he was fed up with her arrogance and uppity.  
  
" _What is your problem???_ " He yelled so loud that echoed in the whole forest.  
  
"My problem? It is your problem to be so slow. What an idiot does not keep his sword ready?" she replied equally loud.  
  
"Ohh, I'm sorry for not being an arrogant mage who can spray lightning-bolts from her fingers any time. You know that's the problem with your kind."  
  
" _My kind?_ " She brawled. Alistair was sure that even the soldiers at the camp heard their argument.  
  
"Umm... guys?" Daveth tried to calm them down, but they ignored him.  
  
"Yes, your kind. Mages. You think you are better than anybody because you can do flashy things with your fancy staffs. But you know what, you are not. You can still die by a sword like anybody else." Her eyes blazed and Alistair could swear that swear he saw flames formatting in her hands.  
  
"Umm... guys!" Daveth tried once again.  
  
" _WHAT???_ " they yelled at him simultaneously. He pointed his finger behind their back and as they turned saw a large group of darkspawn snarling at them.  
  
" _Shit._ " Alistair hissed as drew his weapon out.

* * *

As Alistair reached the campfire, covered with darkspawn blood and guts, dropped his shield and sword on the floor in his frustration and growled. He almost fell over a rock. He grunted once again and began to kick the rock as hard as he could.  
  
"I see the hunt went well." stated Duncan amusedly as reached the raving Alistair.  
  
"That mage girl." He hissed between two kicks. "She is more infuriating than the other mages combined. Arrogant. Insolent. Bitch." His feet ached by the force of his kicking. Eventually, he dissipated his every tension on the poor rock and could just pant.  
  
"Be patient with her, Alistair. The circumstances of her conscription were... dire. And I was modest." Alistair raised his eyebrows to this. "She has gone through a lot lately." He hummed as handed the darkspawn blood and the obtained documents to Duncan. It made some sense but did not justify for being such a bitch. He did everything but this girl didn't make his job any easier. "Go and get her and the others. I’ll prepare the chalice." Duncan ordered.  
  
He found her at the kennels, smoothing some substance on the wound of the dog, while whispered softly to it in a strange language. The mabari lay its head on her thighs and licked her hand gratefully. And something happened. The girl broke into a radiating, tender smile. She looked like a completely different person from the one she was in the Wilds or when they first met. That smile made her truly beautiful.  
  
He didn't realize how intently he stared her until it was too late. " _What again?_ " she yelled at him. "Wait, let me guess. I have a heart." And she stood up from the dog and went to him.  
  
"No, I just wondered on what language you have just spoken. It was beautiful." he excused himself. She seemed astonished for a moment, more likely confused.  
  
"It was Elvish." She answered as ran through her inquiring eyes on him. "According to my studies, it calms down the animals."  
  
Alistair hummed. "Anyway, it matches you," he said and wanted to walk away, but she took his arm.  
  
"How so?" she inquired.  
  
"As I said it is _beautiful_." Solona's sparkling green eyes became big and Alistair could swear that her pale freckled cheeks became slightly pink. So you are not an ice queen at all.  
  
"Let's perform the Joining." he suggested and went back to Duncan's campfire.  
  
Haven’t you learned your lesson, you stupid cow? Her mind screamed to Solona as reached the campfire and her eyes met with Alistair's hazel ones. Duncan was already waiting for them with a chalice in his hands.  
  
"Alistair, would you start it?" Duncan suggested.  
  
"Umm... yes, of course." He cleared his throat and straightened. "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you." And as Alistair finished his reciting, Duncan handed the chalice to Daveth to drink from it.  
  
As he sipped from it, his eyes became white and collapsed to the ground. He died instantly. Solona was horrified by it, as well as Ser Jory, who refused to drink from the chalice, because of his family and pregnant wife but it seemed Duncan wasn't touched it and stabbed his sword through him with an apology. Solona began to pant heavily as Duncan handed her the chalice. She realized that she has only one option, to drink from it, whatever it contains and may survive.  
  
With shaking hands, she put the chalice to her mouth and drank from it. And in that very moment she swallowed it, she collapsed. But she didn’t die. Just had visions with darkspawn and dragons, but she couldn't interpret it. Like she stuck in a Fade in a nightmare from what she couldn't wake up.  
  
And suddenly everything became radiant white and she woke up. As she opened her eyes, she saw Alistair and it somehow comforted her.  
  
"Welcome, my sister." Duncan greeted her as helped standing up. "Your watch has begun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't honestly think that anything could be smooth and easy between Solona and Alistair. :P
> 
> Anyway, thoughts about the chapter?


	10. Rude Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the battle of Ostagar and the journey to Lothering

_Headache._ Pulsating pain at her temple and light nausea. As Solona slowly opened her eyes the sudden light made her agony worse. She so hated when lyrium potion left her body, leaving throbbing migraine behind, even more, when she had to drink it. Like cold fire burned through her body, charring her veins and muscles. She burned from inside and yet she always had the feeling she was freezing to death.  
  
She had blurry memories of the battle, and could recall only fragments, nothing else. She remembered her and Alistair running through the bridge, the burning rocks showered over them. She remembered the first time when felt the presence of the darkspawn. The buzzing sound in her mind, like it, called her softly like a sweet lullaby. She remembered as she and Alistair slain an ogre, and they lit the beacon. And she remembered that Loghain never came, only a horde of darkspawn... She was sure that she had died there. She saw nothing but empty darkness.  
  
She shifted and tried to sit up when another, more intensive feeling pierced her at her shoulder. It made her groan and fell back on the bed.  She tried to pull herself up with her arms, tried to swallow the pain, but fell back again. She tried to cast a healing spell but somehow her magic was weak like it was blocked or suppressed. If not heal herself, she had enough magic to ease her pain. As she touched her aching shoulder she felt it was wrapped in fresh and clean bandage just like her whole upper body and felt the peculiar stink of the elfroot balm on her bruises. She always had to retch by its smell.  
  
As her eyes slowly acclimatized to the light she looked around. She was in a hut, maybe somewhere in the Wild. The shelves on the wall were filled with vials and ancient looking books. From the ceilings, dried herbs were hanged. In the corner, a cozy fireplace breathed fire and she felt the pleasant smells of a stew.  
  
"You were lucky. It ran through your shoulder," she heard the exotic-sounding, very feminine voice. It was so familiar and as she turned to the source saw Morrigan, the Witch of the Wild they met before with Alistair when they obtained the blood for the Joining. "Mother shall be pleased that you finally woke up. You've been passed out for days now."  
  
"What happened?" she asked feebly as tried to sit up again, this time, she succeeded.  
  
"Briefly, the man who was supposed to answer your signal simply quit. The battle was lost, the King and the Wardens are dead except you and that weeping man-child outside," and Morrigan pointed out the opened window. Solona followed the witch's hand with her eyes, and saw Alistair, sitting on a stone, his head dropped between his shoulders.  
  
"His mentor and friends have just died. What are you expecting from him?" Solona replied as slowly tried to get up from the bed among groans and trembles. Her weak feet barely held her weight and the hut began to spin around, driving her to the edge of vomiting. Her head throbbed painfully like it wanted to burst her skull from inside. She placed her hand on her temple, tried to ease her pain, but no spell could help the pain that lyrium caused in her. Only another dose of potion, but she would rather endure all anguish of hell to not have to drink that thing again.  
  
The black-haired witch snorted. "Some dignity, perhaps. Losing people shall not justify acting childish," Solona took a sharp glance on her as tried to get on her clothes and leaned over her staff and limped out.  
  
They were in the swamp, surrounded by primeval magic, stronger than even in Ostagar, but different. It was like a shield, weakening her magic. Alistair sat in the same spot, broken, trembling, his face buried in his hands. She walked to him as fast as her legs allowed her and crouched next to him, touching his shoulder with her hand.  
  
Alistair winced by her touch and looked up on her. As her eyes met his bloodshed watery ones he pulled her to himself and hugged her tightly, burying his face into her shoulder.  
  
"Maker, you are alive. I thought you are dead for sure," he heaved in surprise and relief at the same time, snuggling her more to himself. She responded his hug, embraced his neck. It wasn't an act of friendship but sympathy. Everybody who had a tiny shard of humanity inside would do the same. She felt his every little tremor, his tears as soaked her shirt. They were like this for minutes, found comfort in each other.  
  
"I see your fellow Warden has awakened," the crackly voice scattered them. She felt that the heat flushed her cheeks. She tried to avoid Alistair's eyes, but when she stole a glance saw that he blushed too. "You see, you worry too much, young lad."  
  
It was Flemeth, Morrigan's mother. She briefly explained to them what happened at Ostagar and how she rescued them. Solona couldn't help, but the old witch made her shudder. Her cruel golden eyes, as she surveyed her with it. Like she searched something in her. She began to wonder that is she the Flemeth she read about in Irving's book. But she hushed this absurd thought away immediately.  
  
She offered her daughter as a guide. Solona didn't like the idea at all and had a very bad premonition as watched Morrigan come to them to depart. But she had no other choice but accept Flemeth's unrequired gift. She was too weak physically and Alistair looked so broken that they wouldn't have a chance in the Wild alone.  
  
_This will be a VERY pleasant trip._ She thought as looked to the grimacing Alistair.

* * *

Alistair and Morrigan quarreled all the way out of the Wild, making Solona’s migraine even worse. She so wanted to cast a mutating spell on them or anything to make them quiet, and she barely could resist the temptation to do it. They debated and mocked about everything and constantly. She truly considered the possibility to leave them there and become an apostate in this Wild, just for some peace and quiet. The Chasinds may even accommodate her.  
  
After the third hour of constant rude and poking banter behind her, she lost her patience. "Enough!” she yelled “Could you be quiet for five minutes, just five bloody minutes? You make my headache even worse. Don’t force me to make you quiet?” she threatened them.  
  
"He started," sulked Morrigan  
  
"I started? You were the one..." Alistair tried to riposte.  
  
"I don't care who started. Just shut up!" she commanded.  
  
She heard barking and when she turned a mabari ran to her, chased by a group of darkspawn. Solona was even grateful to have a target to drive her increasing frustration and cast a fireball on them. They cremated to ashes among earsplitting screams. Alistair and Morrigan just stood their speechlessly and watched how the monsters burned to ashes.  
  
“The next one will land on one of you if you won't be quiet," she threatened them once again, and as she looked into their frightened eyes they even believed it.  
  
The dog joyfully ran to her, cavorted around her, with a jump brought her down to the ground and gratefully licked her, covering her face with saliva.  
  
“Wait, this isn’t that mabari that you healed at Ostagar? It followed you,” stated Alistair as tried to tug it down from her, but as he tried to touch it angrily snarled, which made him falter. Solona managed to push the dog from herself, which sat down before her and joyfully wagged its tail. “I suppose it is yours now. It chose you. Lucky you.” stated Alistair and tried to pet its head, but it snarled to him again.  
  
"How odd. We now have a mangy dog and Alistair is still the dumbest one in the party." Morrigan chimed in. “ _Wonderful._ ”  
  
At night in the camp, Solona still suffered from her migraine. And it became worse if it was possible. Like somebody played war in her head, making it impossible to have a sane thought. She just sat at the base of the fir tree and watched the dancing flames of the campfire, while patted the head of the resting mabari on her lap and listened to its soft snorts. If only that bloody lyrium leave her at last. She could give literally everything for it. She couldn't think straight while her head throbbed so hard and Maker sees her soul she needed to.  
  
"Are you feeling better?" She heard the question. She looked up and saw Alistair. He was without his dragon scale armor. The flames reflected in his hazel eyes making it even warmer than it already was.  
  
"Yes, only that bloody migraine remained," she answered wearily. She could heal herself when they settled down. Only a light scar remained where the darkspawn shot the arrow through her shoulder and she knew that a few days and it will vanish like never happened.  
  
"Don't you have, I don't know... a spell for it?" he asked. Solona glared at him with her most annoyed looking. The last thing she wanted in that moment was anybody’s company.  
  
"If I had a spell, don't you think I would cast it already?" she inquired, her voice filled with arrogance.  
  
But Alistair just hummed. "True enough," he crouched at her and handed some bread and cheese wrapped in a piece of cloth. "You should eat. You are still very weak." Solona smiled at him uncertainly and bit into the cheese. It was dry and sour but better than nothing. She grimaced by it so he handled his canteen filled with water to bring it down with it.  
  
"Look Solona, I was thinking." Alistair began. "You can go home if you want. You are too young to fight in this thing." Solona took down the cheese and looked into Alistair's eyes. For the first time in her life, she was given a choice. The templars presumably thought she died with the other Wardens in Ostagar. She could live as an apostate in relative peace. But still after what she has seen about the darkspawn and the Blight so far it just didn’t feel right. It would be so easy to turn her back and live in unconcern, but eventually, the dark would perish her too. So why not fight against it instead and not being a coward?  
  
"I have no home to go back," she replied, her voice trembling and bitter. "Duncan rescued me from imprisonment or... execution. I'm not welcomed in the Circle anymore. And I don't think my father even remembers me." It would be so easy to run back to Kinloch Hold into Cullen's arm, but she knew that in the moment she steps through the gates of the Circle Greagoir would kill her. And her father... if she had wanted her he wouldn't have given her to the Circle. She was left alone, like so many times before.  
  
"He mentioned that your conscription wasn't... ideal." Solona snorted and tried to swallow her more increasing urge to cry. It was still vivid and painful. She still felt the smell of Jowan's blood on her skin. She still saw the disappointment in her mentor's eyes. She still saw as Cullen just stood there doing nothing to help her. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.  
  
Solona sighed a deep and closed her eyes and drew her head back. "No, Alistair, I don't want to talk about it. I want some hours of silence and solitude." She opened her eyes and looked to him meaningfully. "Do you think I can manage it?" He nodded and raised from her. He went back to his place but he turned back halfway.  
  
"By the way, have you named the dog?" he asked.  
  
"Not yet." she answered.  
  
"Because I have an idea... _Barkspawn._ Just think about it," Solona's lips unwittingly turned to a smile as she understood Alistair's pun. "Aww, I saw you were smiling. You should do more frequent. You are much prettier then," Solona bit her lower lip and tried to force some seriousness on her face. Alistair hummed once again and wished good-night.  
  
"And do you like your name, buddy?" She asked from a dog, which joyfully liked her stroking hand. "Yes, he is nice, indeed," she said sulkily as closed her eyes and tried to rest a couple of hours, trying to ignore that pulsating pain in her head.  
  
She had nightmares again, more likely visions. She saw a dragon, breathing violet fire, endless hordes of darkspawn killing everybody and destroying everything. Everything perished in darkness. And she and Alistair turned to ghouls, following the Archdemon orders mindlessly.  
  
She startled from her dream in the middle of the night with a choked scream. She panted heavily. She was so fed up that she couldn’t sleep one damned night through without having these dreams. But it was different than her other nightmares. She wasn’t in the Fade. She couldn’t do anything but witness these horrifying images. They seemed so real that really terrified her.  
  
She sat up and raked her face with her trembling hands and tried to calm down when someone touched her back gently. She looked up and saw Alistair.  
  
“Bad dreams, huh?” He asked as sat down next to her. She embraced her thighs with her arms. Her whole body shook.  
  
“A vision.” she heaved. “I saw the end of the world. I saw the Archdemon. It seemed so _real_.”  
  
“Well, it is real, a sort of. The part of being a Grey Warden is being able to hear the darkspawn. That was your dream. Hearing them. The Archdemon talks to the horde and we feel it just as they do. That’s why we know that this is a real Blight.”  
  
“ _Fuck._ ’” She cursed and buried her head into her thighs. If the nightmares the demons were wasn’t enough now she had visions by the darkspawn. When will she able to sleep peacefully again? Or will she even sleep ever again?  
  
Alistair tentatively took his hand on her back to comfort. In some inexplicable way, this single gesture made her calm down. She felt as he stroke down his hand on her spine that her energies pacified.  
  
“It takes a bit but eventually you will able to lock these dreams out. It was scary at first me, too,” he said. Solona looked into his eyes and uncertainly smiled.  
  
“Thank you, Alistair.” And this somehow made him blush and he withdrew his hand immediately. He cleared his throat and jumped from her bedroll at once.  
  
“That's what I'm here for. To deliver unpleasant news and witty one-liners,” he responded as went back to her place.

* * *

It took two more days to reach Lothering. They saw the tents of the refugees from miles away. They flooded the Imperial Highway, filling the air with their sobbing and wailing. The lost everything, only their lives remained and it worth so little in these desperate times. It worth an old trinket or some food for what the bandits would kill them,  
  
Solona, Alistair, and Morrigan watched the marching lines of these poor souls and she had the feeling they already failed. Everything seemed hopeless and meaningless.  
  
“What a picturesque view,” Alistair stated as looked through the anguished faces.  
  
“Well, we have to start somewhere,” Solona answered as turned to him. She tried to be seemed confident or at least less terrified than she really was. “Are you ready?” she asked.  
  
“No,” Alistair answered.  
  
“Good. Because me neither.” and they entered the village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it wasn't my best writing, sorry :) I try to use as little retelling as possible
> 
> Anyway, thoughts about the chapter?


	11. Nights in the Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona and Alistair try to get used to each other.

Alistair gathered firewood with the Qunari they picked up in Lothering. They did not speak a during it. Not even a single word. _He is hilarious._ He sulked. _This whole Blight will be hilarious with brightening companions._  
  
He didn't like them, any of his companions. Morrigan, that cruel and rude cunt he just wanted to suffocate. Sten, the Qunari, a convicted murderer which was not a comforting thing. That Chantry sister, Leliana who they also picked up in Lothering. With her visions, he couldn't decide that she was delirious or simply a blinded religious fanatic. Neither option was cheering up. What an illustrious company to save Thedas from perishing in darkness.  
  
And of course _Solona._  
  
She was... she was... she was a puzzle. Sometimes she was just cold and insolent, the other time gentle and caring. He couldn't even predict how she would react to something. But something was in her.  
  
Alistair had to admit she was beautiful. But Leliana was beautiful, even Morrigan if he forgot for a second what a bitch she was. But she was different than them. Alistair wondered why as he watched her in Lothering all day. She was unique in many ways. Not just her magic, which was more powerful than any mage's he met before. She was young and yet so confident, a natural leader, commanding their party and nobody questioned her legitimacy. She was mesmerizing in some inexplicable way. Sometimes he wondered that he admires or fears her.  
  
As they returned to the camp he instantly noticed that Solona's face became smoother, less haggard. Maybe at least that tearing migraine has already left her, which lacerated her all day. Alistair felt guilt for making it worse for her with his fights with Morrigan. She shouldn't be here, she should be in the safety of her Circle doing her ordinary stuff unknowingly the horrors of the Blight or the pressure sat on their shoulder now the other Wardens were dead. But for some reason, despite she could be very infuriating, despite her arrogance he was grateful that she survived the Joining and the battle and she didn't accept his offer to leave. He was grateful that there was somebody beside him in this whole thing even if it was a mage girl on who he could not conform.  
  
She took a short glance on him as sat down on her bedroll. Her sparkling eyes, as she ran them through him, they penetrated into him, like she saw through him. She was a puzzle and Alistair wanted to solve her, wanted to understand her. And wanted to make her understand that they were together in this.  
  
She rested on her bedroll and watched the fire thoughtfully, just as a day before. It seemed a perfect time to speak with her, but still he was reluctant. He always felt like a bumbling idiot when he had to speak with her and she never made his job easy with her sarcastic comments. And when he finally determined himself, somebody always demanded her attention. And she attentively and kindly listened to all of them. And this infuriated him. She was nice with them, even with Morrigan, but never with him.  
  
It was around midnight when he woke up to wailing and whimpers.  
  
It came from her.  
  
She trashed and shifted on her bedroll violently, mumbling things, swimming in cold sweat. He got up to wake up her but just as he reached her she startled from her sleep with chocking pants and an absorbed scream. She looked at him with frightened doe-eyes like she was scared to death.  
  
"The Archdemon again?" He asked sitting next to him. She just shook her head as embraced herself and tried to be smaller by every second.  
  
"Worse," she whispered her voice breaking. "Memories." She watched the fire with glassy eyes, her half-undone hair in her face. She seemed so vulnerable and fragile.  
  
"It was just a bad dream." She murmured but Alistair wasn't sure she wanted to convince him or herself. She repeated this like a chant, her voice more trembling by every word, like she was in some kind of trance. Alistair tentatively took his hand on her back, making her wince and look at him. Her eyes glistened with her unshed tears.  
  
"Can I...?" he began but he was uncertain what he could do for her or she needs his help at all.  
  
"No, you can't." she cut him before he could say anything else. Alistair knew that it would be useless to say anything else or trying to persuade her. So he just nodded resignedly and stood up and headed back to his place.  
  
 "Alistair, wait." He turned back to this. "I can't sleep back. Could you... could you...?" She searched for the words. Alistair doubted that she has ever asked for help or she has ever needed someone's help. He went back to her and sat down on her bedroll and leaned on the base of the tree behind them.  
  
They didn't speak, just watched the fire as it slowly died until nothing left behind just embers. The dawn found them like this, in comforting silence, not even stealing a glance to the another. The mabari rested its head on her lap and snorted peacefully. She scratched the base of the dog's ear. Alistair had to admit it was somehow comforting as they sat there peacefully rested there, and watched the rising sun.  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked breaking this state.  
  
Alistair raised his eyebrows and looked at her questioningly but she just stared the horizon. "About what?"  
  
"About Duncan," she answered. "You seemed so devastated at Flemeth, so I thought... if you want... I'm here for you to talk." she searched for the right words and Alistair realized she is as clumsy as himself, lost in this whole situation. It was surprisingly thoughtful of her like she cared and he began to wonder that was this her real face and that arrogant and insolent mage girl was some kind of shield as Duncan assumed.  
  
"I didn't realize you mourn him too. You barely knew each other," he replied.  
  
"Indeed, but I know how hard to lose a mentor, especially when you were close. I lost mine because of a stupid mistake."  He shifted on the bedroll and turned to her. She was so beautiful as the first golden rays of the sun shone on her. As her ginger hair softly fell on her shoulder like a fall of flames.  
  
"What happened?" he asked not hoping that he would get an answer.  
  
"I trusted," she replied bitterly as turned to him. Alistair watched the glistening tears in her eyes. How desperately she tried not to shed it. In that moment she seemed so undisguised. And for the first time, Alistair saw her as a fellow Grey Warden, not an arrogant infuriating mage girl he was forced to fight with.  
  
Noises of shifting shook them out. The others were waking up. Solona looked away perplexedly, smoothing her hair behind her ear like she was nervous, and began pottering with her bag, wiping those tears from her eyes.  
  
"We should get ready," she suggested fixating her glance on her backpack. Alistair silently nodded and went back to her place.

* * *

The next two days were eventless beside the regular encounters with darkspawn and hostile fauna. Alistair could swear that there were a hurlock, a bear or a rabid wolf in every bush waiting just for them. Being in constant danger became the natural way of existing. He always kept his sword ready, resting his hand on the hilt. He was always on alert, even if they stopped for a rest, especially when they stopped for a rest.  
  
Morrigan mocked her all way long, said cruel things, trying to humiliate him any way she could. And he just couldn't let her do it, so they argued all day long. Solona sometimes shot a glare on them to stop. Morrigan just shrugged on this while Alistair grimaced. But she did not yell with them anymore like she bowed to the fact they will fight all way long. Instead, she asked Leliana to tell her tales, or Sten to talk about the Qun or just threw sticks for Barkspawn to fetch them. Anything to help her ignore the rudeness they threw to each other.  
  
As they camped after the third day Alistair couldn't stand more and wandered to a forest to find a suitable tree for sword practice. As he found it he began to flail with his sword to derive his frustration. He grunted shouted as another strike landed on the poor tree. He continued until the last drop of anger left him or until he destroyed the bark of it. He panted heavily as took say his blade and observed his handiwork. He couldn't decide what was more infuriating. That Morrigan mocked her or that Solona did nothing to stop her or he was so incompetent that couldn’t stand up for himself.  
  
By he returned to the camp everybody was sleeping except Solona, who sat on her bedroll and watched the dancing flames as usual and Barkspawn who delightfully chewed a lamb bone.  
  
"Hey boy..." he wanted to pet the mabari's head but before he could touch it bit through his hand with an angry snarl. Alistair cried out and the blood began to stream.  
  
"What happened?" asked Solona as rushed to them looking at his bleeding hand. "Shit, Alistair! This is not a lapdog." she hissed. "It could have torn down your half arm. Let me see it." And she took his hand but he pulled it away nervously.  
  
"No leave it be,” he said. He didn't know why but felt awkward as she touched his hand.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, I can spirit heal. So give me your hand and let me help before it infects or you bleed out." He was still reluctant however his blood flew from his bruise so strong that even soaked the ground under them. "Or I can ask Morrigan to make you a regeneration balm or a healing potion." That option was more horrifying than being nervous by her touch. She would definitely poison him or do something unnatural with him, maybe planting something in him, a demon or an abomination.  
  
"Anything but that." he heaved.  
  
"Then give me your hand." She ordered peremptorily and he reluctantly obeyed. She took her hand on his still bleeding wound. Her palm was incredibly warm, like the embracing fire. Hot, but not burning. And this sensation somehow caused goosebumps on his arm as she examined him.  
  
"He bit through one of your veins," she stated as took a glare to a dog who whined penitently and pulled its tail between his legs. Her hand began to glow in golden and as her energies entwined his hand. It was even a stranger feeling that the warmth of her palm. It tingled in him and caused him somehow to weaken, leaving shivering sensation running down his spine. And his pain began to fade and he felt that under her skilled and healing hand his broken skin and vein restore.  
  
As she ceased it she went to her backpack for a fresh roll of bandage and a wet cloth. She began to clean the half-dried blood from his hand when suddenly upturned the sleeve of his shirt and watched the Templar insignia on his wrist.  
  
"So you are a templar," she stated stoically. "That explains a lot."  
  
"Like what?" he inquired.  
  
"That why you are thinking that all mages are so bad." she replied as begin to wrap his hand in the bandage.  
  
"I was just a recruit. I've never taken my oath. Duncan conscripted me before it." he explained.  
  
"So you didn't believe in the principle that 'Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him'?" She chuckled sarcastically as fixed the bandage.  
  
"It just didn't suit me. Serving the Chantry," he answered.  
  
She hummed. "They called me Fiery Witch. The templars."  
  
"Why?"  
  
She shrugged. "I don't know maybe because of my obsession with fire." and she formatted tiny flames in her hand. "Or maybe just because of my hair."  
  
"You obsession with fire?" Alistair inquired as watched the reflection of the flames in her eyes. She seemed so radiating as glanced the blazes in her hand. She was a mesmerizing, magnetizing beauty and for a quick insane moment, Alistair wanted to touch her.  
  
"I love fire; I love the feeling it pulsating around me. It understands me. They feared that one day I would burn the whole Circle down with a wildfire." she chuckled. Alistair just watched the blazes in her eyes and still tried to figure out for a thousandth time why she is so entrancing.  
  
"Sooo," he said lastly. "Are you being nice to me now? Why?" She clenched her finger and her cherry red lips curved into a perky smile.  
  
"Don't get used to it." She answered and wanted to get up, but he stopped her grabbing her wrist.  
  
"Why?" he persevered.  
  
"We are left alone in this, Alistair. And believe me, nothing worse than being alone against the whole world." She answered bitterly as stood up. "Like it or not we stuck in this together." And she began to walk to her bedroll.  
  
"And do you like it or not?" he asked. That made her stop. She carelessly turned back to him with that insolent smirk on her face.  
  
"I haven't decided yet." she replied "We should sleep. Tomorrow we’ll reach Redcliffe. Good night, little soldier-boy." And she lay down on her bedroll and turned her back to him. Alistair didn't know why but he liked this nickname very much.  
  
"Good night little girl on fire." He whispered but she didn't hear it.  
  
For the first time since she left Kinloch Hold, Solona could sleep through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, an awkward question: What do you think, what would be Solona's spirit animal?
> 
> I'm looking forward your opinion (about this and the chapter too) :)


	12. The Crow of Antiva

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An assassin, Zevran is assigned to murder the two remained Grey Wardens in Ferelden, but this task seems harder than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it was fast, but for some reason I have to much time to write :)
> 
> Anyway, here comes Zevran :)

That was supposed to be his last assignment. After what happened with his fellow Crow, Rinna, he didn't want to do this anymore. It was enough of this life but he didn't know another way of life so this was a convenient solution. The fact that his targets were Grey Wardens was just the icing on the cake. They were legendary fighters, the perfect crowning of his assassin career.  
  
He has tracked them down for weeks no until he got reliable information that they are on the road between Redcliffe and the Circle of Ferelden. So the all he needed to do is to set up an ambush and wait for them patiently. And his patience was paid off. That chit he assigned to lure them him did an excellent job. She was a better actress than a bed-warmer. He picked him at Denerim Market alongside with the mercenaries. She wanted to be out of the city and he needed somebody, who can be his bait maybe with some side benefits.  
  
As the Wardens appeared he could only see the two redheads. They were his weak points. And this two were very delightsome. The one who had short hair was a rogue with bow and arrows. Her armor was fairly provocative, exposing her long and delectable legs. And the other, the mage, who he suspected his target was, had curved, well-proportioned figure; just his type, both of them. He almost felt sorry for the outcome of this encounter, because one of them will lie dead on the ground. Hopefully himself.  
  
The mage-girl was sharp-minded, recognized her situation instantly. But she didn't falter just smirked and measured her possibilities. They were definitely outnumbered but as she surveyed the girl sweeping her green eyes through their lines a bad premonition grabbed him. She wasn't scared or panicked or anything; instead, she even looked delighted about his ambush.  
  
The other red one has already tensed her bow and pointed to his temporary bed warmer and as she released the arrow it pierced through her heart. The girl collapsed and died instantly. That was the moment when the Qunari and the other, human warrior, who he suspected his other target attacked the mercenaries he hired. But the mage girl didn't do anything, just stood in the middle of the chaos and stared him with that insolent smirk on her face.  
  
"Come and get me." Her eyes whispered to him. And who was he to refuse a lady's request? So he grabbed his daggers and attacked her. But she evaded and dodged all his attempts to reach her with catlike agility. She didn't use her magic, just for taunting. She knew his every motion even before him and easily sidestepped from the way of his blades.  
  
_You would be an excellent assassin, Warden._ He thought as tried to strike another one what she evaded with a back flip. He took a short glance around and saw that all the mercenaries were dead around him. But the girl just played her cat-and-mouse play with him and he couldn't decide who was who in it.  
  
It seemed the girl got bored because she cast her first serious spell a thunderbolt, what almost struck him. As their eyes met again and saw the dauntless sparkling in her eyes he knew that it was just a warming up for her. He needed to be bold and tried to get behind her, but before he could reach her, he stopped. His legs didn't answer to him anymore and he felt the girl's immobilizing magic embracing him.  
  
"Tsk, tsk, tsk." she mocked him as he tried to struggle with her coiling energies. She elegantly walked him around never breaking the eye contact. And when she ceased it he felt a shove and heat on his skin and the next moment the world became dark around him.

* * *

As he slowly regained his consciousness and opened his eyes he felt that something is pressed to his throat. And as his eyes acclimatized to the light again, he saw the mage girl standing over him, pointing her staff at his throat. He didn't kill him but it wasn't a guarantee that he will ever leave this place alive. It was enough to see the girl's eyes blazing in rage. He found him gorgeous when she was furious, even more, when she fought. She was definitely a delectable one, definitely worth for at least one round.  
  
"Tell me one reason to not kill you." She hissed as pressed her stuff more to his throat.  
  
His head was still blurry, but he did his best to collect his thoughts. His life was at stake and in that moment it wasn't a desirable option to die by the hand of this mage girl. He was sure she would choose the most agonizing way she knew to kill him. "I see you haven't killed me yet."  
  
"You acumen is exceptional," she mocked. He tried to collect his every wit; he spoke himself out from more dire situations.  
  
"If you are going to ask me questions, let me save you a little time and get right to the point." He felt that the girl eased a bit on the pressure. My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends..."  
  
"I'm _not_ your friend." The girl cut him with a snarl. There were murderous intentions in her eyes.  
  
"True enough. Anyway, I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying the surviving Grey Wardens. Which apparently I have failed, sadly."  
  
The girl snorted in an unamused laughter. "Not that you have any chance to defeat me." She was confident and boastful, maybe a bit arrogant. She was definitely Zevran's type. "And you came all the way from Antiva, just to assassinate me. I'm almost flattered." He even  felt sorry that he didn’t meet this prideful girl before. She was witty, knowing how to use the weapon of words, not to mention her staff, which made him immobile. It would have been so much fun to break her will.  
  
He felt that he pressed her staff more to his throat, making him chocking lightly. "Who hired you?" she interrogated him. She was so natural in it easing and pressing the tension on him. Wasting such talent for the Grey Wardens. Such a shame. He chuckled to himself as tried to swallow under her staff.  
  
"A rather taciturn man from the capital. Loghain, I think that was his name." the girl looked at the blonde standing opposite of her. Zevran assumed he was the other Warden.  
  
"And are you loyal to him?" she asked, pressing her staff more to his throat, almost tearing his trachea and closing the way of air. "Consider your answer very, _VERY_ well." she hissed.  
  
"I'm not loyal to him." he heaved. The mage eased a bit and he coughed and panted heavily as his lungs got air again. Zevran strangely had an idea that a girl, who has such a talent for an interrogation and keep people under pressure, would be a very wild and untamable in bed. And he almost considered the challenge to rein her. "I was contracted to perform a service."  
  
"And what now that you have failed?" she asked.  
  
"Well, that's between the Crows and Loghain and the Crows and myself." he eased a bit more.  
  
"And between you and me?" she inquired. Give me some rope sweetheart and you'll see. He wanted to say but considering his situation this would be his last words on this world.  
  
"Well, Warden, the thing is, I like living. And my life is in your pretty hands now. And if you won't kill me the Crows will if I fail..." She pressed her staff to his throat once again.  
  
" _If_ you fail?" she hissed.  
  
"What can I say, I'm an eternal optimist," he laughed. He couldn't escape from the absurdity of the situation as he laid on the ground his life depending on the whim of a furious and deadly mage girl. But she just released a disgusted grimace. "Well, if for one second you stop interrogating me, we could figure out some kind of arrangement."  
  
He felt that she eased the pressure on his throat again, almost making it comfortable for him. Zevran somehow even enjoyed her power play over him. "'I'm listening. Make an offer, a good one."  
  
Zevran had some idea how he could pay for his life but he was sure that she wouldn't appreciate any of his options. Well, at least not that point.  
  
"Well, I'm skilled in many arts of an assassin. Killing, stealth, picking locks...etcetera... or I can just warm your bed if you want. I pledge you all my services and loyalty... and the noblest part of my body." The girl narrowed her eyes, but not faltered, and not showed any sign abashment. She was a tough one. "And believe me, Warden; I will be very useful if the Crows attempt to kill you with more sophisticated methods. Because a contract is alive until the target is alive."  
  
She increased the pressure on his neck again "Can I expect the same amount of loyalty that you showed toward Loghain or the Crows?"  
  
"Loyalty is an interesting concept. I'm tending to be a loyal person until they won't expect me to die for failing." She increased the pressure a little more, just enough to make him choke lightly once again.  
  
"Do you think I'm that much stupid?" she yelled at him.  
  
"No, I think that you are royally though to kill. And utterly gorgeous." She raised her eyebrows to this. She was really a tough one, not the type who he could convince with a few mellifluous words. "And there are worse things than serve the whims of a deadly sex goddess." She grimaced once again. So she didn't like it dirty, or under this mask of prudence, she likes it, very much.  
  
"And what do you want in return?" she inquired. You, bound to a bed naked and helpless. He chuckled to himself as ran through his eyes on the girl. Despite his situation or perhaps because of it, he felt great urge to get this girl to bed.  
  
"Well, keeping my miserable life would be a good start," he began. "And after I stop being useful to you let me go on my way. Is that a fair offer, Warden?" The girl measured him with her cutting glance, and Zevran knew that it was a moment of truth and he still wasn't sure that he will leave this place alive.  
  
But eventually, she raised her staff from his throat, letting him get up. She was a reasonable type, for Zevran's greatest relief. "Very well, I accept your offer."  
  
The blonde warrior went to the girl and took his hand. "Solona, do you think that it is a good idea? He is an assassin after all who tried to kill us."  
  
The girl ran her eyes through Zevran once again. "He comes with us." she declared and went to Zevran, closing the distance between them, glaring at him right into his core. " _Don't_ make me disappointed, assassin." She threatened him and began to take her steps. "And you may call me Solona," she said lastly. __

* * *

Zevran watched the girl all day. Watched her fighting, issuing orders, leading the party. And watched her at the camp each sat on her bedroll and gazed the flames of the campfire, alone sometimes interrupted by some of her companions. And more he examined her, the more he wanted to get her in bed. She was the type he always found challenge in. She was strong-willed, indomitable, not the one who spread her legs after a few candied words.  
  
I eagerly await the moment to break you and make you beg for more. He chuckled to himself as approached her.  
  
"I just want to thank you again for sparing my life?" he began as reached her.  
  
Solona looked up on him. "Don't thank me, thank Leliana." and she pointed to the other red-head. "I wanted to slit your throat or burn you alive. Or simply bind you to the tree for a prey to the darkspawn."  
  
Zevran chuckled, however, he couldn't decide that the girl was serious or just teased him. "Then didn't you do any of this?"  
  
"I have already seen enough bloodshed for one lifetime. I'm just sick of it," she answered bitterly. "But it doesn't mean I trust in you, assassin."  
  
"This not even crossed my mind," he chuckled. "Anyway, thanks again." And he went back to his place.  
  
"Are you suiting in?" she asked after few steps. Zevran turned back to her.  
  
"We could say that,” he answered. "Although your fellow Warden, Alistair glares at me like he wants to stab his sword through me by any minute." She burst out in snickering.  
  
"You can't blame him. You wanted to assassinate us." now Zevran laughed.  
  
"True enough," he replied, tittering. "My biggest mistake to attack the deadliest beauty in Thedas."  
  
Solona raised her eyebrows and her lips turned to a seductive smile as she stood up. "Are you suggesting, I'm beautiful?"  
  
"Everybody could see that who is fancy in women," she closed the distance between them swaying her hips like those expensive whores in Val Royeaux, serving the whims of the aristocracy.  
  
"And what is it to you fancy, exactly?" she whispered to his ear.  
  
"I fancy many things. I fancy things that are beautiful and things that are strong. I fancy things that are dangerous and exciting. Would you be offended if I said I fancied you, one who embodies all of these?" She took her hand on his waist and began to near her lips to his, never taking her enticing eyes from him.  
  
"Not at all," she whispered to his mouth. And he wondered that it was far too easy. And just before he could kiss her felt a cold blade pressing to his throat. His knife in her hand. "Until you perfectly know your place," she added and took a few steps back with that insolent and irresistible smirk on her face handling back his knife to him.  
  
"Good night, assassin," she tweeted as sat back to her place.  
  
With a hum which turned to a chuckle, he also went back to his spot, wondering how fascinating would be when one day he will really conquer her. At his place Alistair waited for him, leaning on the bole of a tree, looking at the ground, playing with his sword what he swung by its tip meaningly.  
  
"What can I do for you, Warden?" Zevran inquired.  
  
"I just want to make one thing clear," he began shooting a murderous glare at him. "For the first time I see your loyalty shakes or you are trying to hurt her in any way, you won't have to worry about your fellow Crows anymore." And without giving him a chance to riposte, he left him there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohh, I so love Zevran's careless attitude :) I hope I could picture him well.


	13. The Broken Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uldred and his blood mage minions unleash the madness on Kinloch Hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: NSFC - Not Safe for Cullenites
> 
> This will be a darker chapter with many graphic description violence, please consider reading it accordingly.

Cullen somehow lost his place at the Circle after Solona’s departure. He felt himself alone and empty. And when he just got used to her absence Senior Enchanter Wynne returned and brought the terrible news of the battle of Ostagar.  
  
_All the Grey Wardens were dead_.  
  
Cullen couldn’t believe it. She just couldn’t be dead. And as the days passed this denial slowly turned to pain and sorrow. He blamed himself that he hadn’t been brave enough to rescue her when he could have done, that he just let them drag her away to die. And this agony and self-loathing somehow drove him to Driandra’s arms. But these intercourses weren’t an act of love. These were some primal need for comfort. Cullen tried to imagine that he embraces and kisses Solana, he tried to recall her face, her figure, but her image was more blurry more grotesque by every time.  
  
The fall of the Circle happened unexpectedly. First Enchanter Irving sank into grief for losing his so beloved apprentice and neglected his duties, ignored the hushed whispers about he is using blood magic and persuaded others to join.  
  
And then they flooded the whole Hold with demons and abominations.  
  
Cullen and the other templars tried their best to defeat them, but their lines were endless. He saw as they slaughtered his friends. Just beside him, his roommate was burnt to death by a rage demon, another fellow templar was literally ripped asunder by two hunger demons. And as he tried to progress through the piles of dead templars, mages and abominations, abruptly he felt a sharp pain on the nape of his neck and the next moment he collapsed and the whole world became dark around him.

* * *

He woke up on omeone gently caressing his hair. He felt icy feeling on his face. Snowflakes drifted on him and melted as landed on his face. He heard that somebody hummed a sweet lullaby and he could recognize the tinkling voice everywhere. But it couldn't be. He felt the heat of her palm as she played with his curls. He slowly sat up from her lap and looked around. They were in the astrarium, the stars shone like diamonds and the moon lighted the place with silver dim light. And then he looked at her.  
  
Cullen startled, slipped back a bit, his heart pounded and he took his breaths deeply. _He saw a ghost._  
  
It was really Solona. Her silky ginger hair was loose falling on her shoulder. Her emerald green eyes sparkled in the moonlight. Her freckled alabaster skin glowing like there was a halo around her.  
  
"Shhh." she hushed him. "It's all right." Her voice was sweet like honey.  
  
"You can't be her? She left to Ostagar, she died in the battle..." Solona silenced her with taking her index finger before his mouth.  
  
"It was just a bad dream," she whispered. "I'm here, I never left." She slipped to him and ran her fingers down his cheek. Her fiery touch was still shivering like he remembered. Her scent was still intoxicating. Cullen couldn't believe his eyes, couldn't believe that it was her. Like he really woke up from a long nightmare or he died and this was the Maker's heaven and he joined to her once and for all.  
  
He cupped her cheeks driving her glance on him. "Tell me it's really _you_ ," he begged.  
  
She stood on her knees and exhaled a soft kiss on his forehead. "It's me..." she breathed to his skin. "...and I'll never leave you... " and she kissed the tip of his nose. "...I'm yours..." and she brushed her lips against his. "...I love you, Cullen."  
  
And she kissed him. It was as sweet as he still felt on his tongue. Like the golden honey. Cullen snuggled her to him as much as he could. He trailed his tongue into her mouth as much as he could. But he couldn't get satiated, just wanted more and more, like with every bite just made himself hungrier for her. He claimed her lips more and more violently.  
  
And her taste slowly became coppery like blood and then sour and eventually it was like ash. The heat of her body faded and she was cold. She laid in his arm lifelessly, her eyes hazy, her skin gray, covered with black veins, her cherry red lips pale and chappy.  
  
And they weren't in the astrarium anymore. They were on a blood-soaked battlefield, surrounded by death and choking smoke. And her dead body was in his arms. He trembled, wailed as looked through her broken corpse, but he couldn't release her. He hugged her to him, buried his face into her rigid skin.  
  
"Why didn't you save me?" Rattled into his ear in her voice but was muddy and demonic. And she evaporated from his arms like dust in the wind and everything became dark.

* * *

And he woke up shuddering in cold sweat. His head pulsated in pain, his muscles were sore and he proned on the cold stone floor, half-naked. His ear whistled suppressing every other sound. But as it slowly ceased something more horrifying took its place.  
  
_Screams._ Deafening, gruesome screams.  
  
Cullen tried to get up, but as he propped his hands to stand up, he palmed into something sticky and warm. He looked on his hand to see what it is. It was blood trickling down his fingers. He looked around and saw dead templars all around him. He cried out in horror and crawled to a corner.  
  
He heard his own heart pounding hard and painfully. This can't be real. I'm still in the Fade. He chanted in himself, embracing himself trying to ignore the terrifying sounds.  
  
"I see our guest finally woke up." He heard the familiar female voice. He looked up and saw Surana standing over him, her arms crossed before her chest, a wide, bestial grin on her face. Her eyes sparkled wickedly radiating savaged madness. "The Master wants to give special treatment for Greagoir's little favorite." Her cadence was cruelly jovial making his skin crawl. "I always wondered. What was so special in that bitch that you and Irving and everybody else ate from her palm?" She crouched before Cullen and used some magic on him forcing him to look at her. "Tell me, how many times did you jerk off thinking of her? How many times did you imagine her when you fucked your templar whore?"  
  
Not what she said but how she said made Cullen's stomach spasm, the bile rise in his throat, flooding his body with primal fear. The bestial cadence she spoke on, the cutting glance she looked at him, the monstrous grin on her face, almost a snarl. It was unearthly.  
  
Her magic what paralyzed him was so sickeningly similar to Solona's. Tingling, almost pleasant like a soft caress. And in the most perverted way, he could imagine this triggered the memory when they were in the bath, when she pleasured herself crying out his name in ecstasy. He almost felt comfort that he could find a peaceful nook of his mind from this madness.  
  
Whimpers and wailing shook him out and pulled back to the horrifying reality. "Speaking of the devil?" Surana snickered.  
  
Two other mages trailed the half-dead Driandra after them. She was freed from her armor and most of her clothes, deep bruises covered her body. She was barely conscious. Cullen couldn't imagine how they brutalized her to be seemed like this. She was a tough woman, hardened in fight and now she looked like a broken mess.  
  
The elf mage stood up from Cullen, that cruel grin still on her face and went to the other two mages. "Gentlemen, please entertain our templar guest properly." And before she ascended the stairs, what led to the Harrowing Chambers as Cullen realized, she turned back to them. "Have fun while you can," her voice was still shudderingly jovial.  
  
As the thick wooden door closed behind Surana, Cullen felt that her magic left him, allowing him to move again. The remained two mages shoved the trembling Driandra on her hands and knees and tore the remained clothes from her. One of them kneeled behind her, unlaced his breeches and forced himself into her. She screamed, squirmed, tried to get away, but the trapped her with magic.  
  
Cullen jumped up and rushed to her but just before he could reach he crashed into something and fell back. He tried again and again but some invisible force field trapped him. He thundered against it again and again, tried to break it through until he felt his own bones cracking and he collapsed in pain. He could do nothing just watch the mortifying scene, seeing as her blood trickled down her legs, hearing the terrible sound of bare skins collided or her deafening screams and sobs.  
  
It seems hours of her rape and eventually Driandra gave up. She just endured with glassy eyes and could only whimper and moans as an answer of the constant taunting of the two blood mages. Cullen couldn't endure it. He squeezed his eyes and covered his ears to escape from this hell and recited the Benedictions. He felt coward and weak for letting them desecrate her.  
  
A shuddering scream made him twitch to the core and as he looked up saw that she proned in the pool of her own blood, her throat slit from ear to ear. And a demon arose. A female looking demon with violet skin and horns. It had a form of a naked woman with lush breast and slender waist. With its magnetizing eyes looked right into Cullen's eyes. And suddenly it felt too hard to keep his eyes open. Drowsiness conquered him and the world became dark once again around him.

* * *

He woke up to the sound of gurgling water and the feeling of vapor on his skin. He was in the bath of the Circle and heard that sweet lullaby again. He stood up and saw Solona sitting naked on the edge pool, her legs in the water and she massaged scented oil into her delicate skin.  
  
This time, Cullen knew it was just the game of his mind, but still it was convincing. Everything was on the perfect, every freckle was on the exact place, every curve was the same, and even that unruly lock was in her face as always. Even that birthmark on her right hip. More he watched her, more he believed it was her, only a dark nook of his mind rustled more and more silently that it was just an illusion.  
  
She looked up and their eyes met. She smiled at him tenderly, invitingly. She stood up and slowly walked to him. Her ginger hair covered her upper body, but not concealed that lush tuft of hair between her thighs. She was mesmerizingly beautiful  as she took the steps toward him.  
  
_It isn't her._ He murmured in himself but as she came closer and closer it was harder to believe it. As she reached her she embraced his neck stroke her finger down the back of his neck and leaned over his ear.  
  
"I've been waiting for you," she whispered in her tinkling voice making Cullen shiver unwittingly. He watched that elegant valley where her neck and shoulder met, what he so loved. It was a perfect copy of Solona. "Did you miss me?" she asked in honeyed voice.  
  
"You aren't her." He answered uncertainly not believing his own words.  
  
"What are you talking about, of course, I am." And she pressed her naked body to him and he felt that he began to harden. She leaned over him so close that their lips almost met. "Tell me you love me, tell me you need me, tell me you want me and I'll give you everything." And suddenly the rustle in his mind became a scream. Solona Amell would never offer herself on a silver tray  She was too prideful for it.  
  
And this certainty broke the illusion. The bath slowly dissolved like a painting in water. And the demon revealed its true self, the demon he saw in Kinloch Hold.  
  
"You cannot fool me demon, I know her too well," and she grabbed the wrist of the creature and violently yanked to the ground. And he squeezed his eyes. "Wake up," he commanded and the next moment he heard the screams at the Circle once again.

* * *

Eternal hours passed as  he sat in his invisible cage and listened to those horrifying sounds from the Harrowing Chamber. Nobody came for him. He just saw as the blood mages dragged the surviving templars and other mages, who refused to join to this madness and he could do nothing. Just watched as they brutalized them, desecrated them before they trailed their half-dead bodies to the Chamber above them. He watched the pools and trickling virulent of blood everywhere, the human flesh around him. And even if he shut his eyes still saw these images like it burned into his retina.  
  
The screams never stopped. And even if they did, still echoed in his mind, driving him to madness. He couldn't press his hand on his ears to not hear it. Like it ingrained to his mind and tried to smash his skull from inside. And there was nowhere to hide. When he tried to escape into his memories he always saw Solona and he faded away and the demon appeared, grinning at him bestially.  
  
He sat in a corner huddled up and trembled, chanted the Benedictions almost maniacally. He prayed to the Maker to free him, to kill him, anything but let this be over.  
  
"Having fun?" He heard Surana's still cruelly jovial voice.  
  
"Please, " he whimpered. "if anything you is mundane, kill me now and stop this," the elf girl snickered and Cullen twitched.  
  
"Patience, handsome, your turn comes soon. " and she brushed her finger down his jawline making Cullen shudder. "But now, you haven't answered my question. What was so special in that bitch?" Cullen glared at her, tried to collect the last straw of his sanity.  
  
"She was different than you. She was better than any of you." That cruel grin finally froze off her face and it distorted with disgust and anger.  
  
"She was worse than any of us," she yelled at him. "She was a pet of Irving, his little sunshine. She was a ticking bomb ready to explode killing everybody on sight," Surana leaned over Cullen so close he could feel her breath on his skin. "She was an _abomination_."  
  
"No, she wasn't." Cullen hissed. Surana sat on her knees, rolled up the sleeve of her robe and with a knife cut his skin shedding her own blood which streamed down her in ruby virulent. She took Cullen’s arm too and made a deep cut on it to making him stiff and cry out in agony. She took her arm on his, mixing their blood. "I will show you what she truly was," she hissed through her gritted teeth. And something coiled Cullen, something inexplicably dark and unholy. And the world began to fade around him once again. Surana stood from him with a satisfied smirk on her face.  
  
With his last strength saw another mage rush to the elf. " _She's here..._ " He heard and everything became dark once again.

* * *

Cullen was in a great hall with massive columns and with a burning throne in the middle of the room. He looked out the window and saw that the sky was crimson like blood. The room was filled with chained naked and anguished people kneeling and chanting something in an unknown language. And on the throne, Solona sat surveying the tormented people with an evil and satisfied smirk. Her eyes sparkled with the joy of her own cruelty and power.  
  
"We should have made her a Tranquil of her," Cullen heard and he noticed Irving beside him as he watched resigned his former apprentice bathing in her demonic reign.  
  
"Or kill her," said Greagoir who was at his other side.  
  
But Cullen could only see her see the hunger for pain in her eyes as the chained people chanted just for her. And then she looked up at him and their eyes met. Her smirk turned to a bestial grin as she stood up and walked to him slowly sating every second of her power.  
  
"There you are, my love." It was her voice but nothing tinkling was in it anymore. It was brazen like when two metal blades collided. She caressed his jaw but it wasn't embracing anymore. It was burning like acid. "Come and join me in my eternal reign."  
  
"You aren't her." Cullen hissed with the certainty that it was another twisted illusion of demons. She laughed maniacally, her shuddering voice filling the hall.  
  
" _This is everything I am_ , Cullen." and she spread her arms. "I'm the raging fire destroying everything and the phoenix rising from the ashes. I’m the greatest mage of all times ruling every known world. Mortal and immortal kneel before me." It wasn't the girl he loved anymore. It wasn't Solona Amell anymore. Or for the first time he saw what she was for real. Or what would she have become. "I can decide the fate of people with a single gesture," and she waved her hand and Irving and Greagoir collapsed dead next to him. Cullen couldn't think about her straight anymore. He couldn't see that gentle girl, he saw an abomination, a monster. They twisted everything he knew about her and recreated. Nothing else left just morbid madness.  
  
"But you know what, Templar, I should even thank you. You made this all possible with letting me to perform the Harrowing," and she leaned over his ear. " _You_ made me an abomination." She whispered and a stabbing pain ran through his body.

* * *

He woke up in Kinloch Hold once again on that somebody called him on his name. The voice was painfully familiar and filling him with involuntary repulsion. He stood up again and he saw her. He landed in another nightmare but this time, they couldn't effect on him.  
  
No matter how perfect copy she was and how they adapted every time they played with his mind. It wasn't her, even if this time even her glance was the same to his last sane memory about her when he last saw her. That broken glance as she looked at him, the pain in her eyes. They wanted to twist everything about her, but there was nothing else to taint.  
  
"This trick again? I know what you are, it won't work." And he stormed to her, to kill her, to suffocate her, anything just make this madness end. But the barrier stopped him from doing it.  
  
"Cullen," she heaved, her voice trembling. "Don't you recognize me?"  
  
"Only too well," he grunted. "Sifting through my thoughts, tempting me with the only thing that I always wanted, but I never have. Using my shame against me, my ill-advised infatuation with her. They took away the only thing what was really pure in my life. I loved her. I loved her..." he whimpered and collapsed to the ground.  
  
"Cullen..." she sobbed.  
  
"Poor boy... they broke him." He heard the soft voice. He turned to the voice and saw Senior Enchanter Wynne.  
  
"Cullen... it's _me,_ Solona, the Fiery Witch, please..." she pleaded. He looked into her eyes and it was really hers, but there was nothing sure anymore.  
  
"If it's really you then burn this place to the ground, purge it, unleash the wildfire they always feared."  She didn't answer just stared him speechlessly like she faced the greatest horror she could imagine and beyond. She took the breaths like wouldn't receive any, like she was about to faint.  
  
"Come on, Solona, you can do nothing for him. He is lost." he heard a man's voice and noticed a blonde warrior behind her. She looked up at him, her every muscle trembled. And for an insane moment, he believed that it was her. The mage girl he loved.  
  
She stood up and swallowed a big one, looking at Cullen once again. "Where are they? Where are Irving and Uldred?" She asked, her voice trailing off some places.  
  
"In the Harrowing Chamber," he answered and she nodded. The blonde warrior took his hands on her shoulder.  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked worriedly and she nodded once again.  
  
"Just let's get over this," she replied and she headed to the stairs.  
  
Cullen heard the sounds of battle. And soon Senior Enchanter Wynne, the warrior and the jaded but alive Irving came out. The cage vanished around Cullen and the last thing he saw before he passed out the broken Solona staggering down the stairs. And after that everything became dark again but this time no vision came. He was sure that he died at last.

* * *

But he slowly regained his consciousness. His head ached just as his muscles and his whole body trembled. He had a high fever. He felt that somebody changed a wet cloth on his forehead and as he opened his eyes he saw Solona. But it was real or not he didn't see the same girl anymore. He didn't feel love. He felt anger disgust and repulsion.  
  
She ran through her skilled, healing hand over his body to examine him, when he grabbed it angrily. "Don't dare to touch me." he hissed as got up from the bed, yanking her with him. She managed to escape from his grip and took a few steps back.  
  
"Cullen..." she heaved as touched her wrist where his fingers left angry red marks. "...it's me..."  
  
"I know what you are." He yelled as stomped some furious steps forward and she took some back in the same time. "You are a mage and I am a templar. You are a monster and my task is to keep you on a leash." She took some more steps backward, dropping the wet cloth from her hand. She took the breaths heavily and her legs trembled like it barely held her weight.  
  
"I thought we are... we are _friends_."  
  
"I'm beyond caring what you are thinking." He yelled and took another step against making her recede again. "Now I understand why templars are needed. Why we need to lock you up."  
  
"What have they done to you?" She sobbed, her voice trailing off.  
  
"They have opened my eyes." he hissed. " Now I see what you truly are. You are an abomination and it sickens me that I once saw you otherwise, that I even loved you." Solona stood there speechlessly, staring at him for long minutes, like a world collapsed in her, like everything she knew crumbled into the void. And Cullen felt strange satisfaction that he could hurt her the same way they tortured him with her.  
  
The Knight-Commander, the First Enchanter and the blonde warrior came in.  
  
"The Circle is clear. I have never thought I would say this one day but you did an excellent job, Warden Amell. You can count on our help." Greagoir said but she didn't react just stared Cullen with that broken glance. The blonde man went to her and tried to shake her up with a gentle shove on her shoulder.  
  
"Solona, we need to go back to Redcliffe. We have to deal with Connor." Her eyes were still on Cullen, filled with unshed tears and her whole body trembling. " _Solona!_ " He yelled at her and it made her look at him.  
  
Irving went to her and gently put her hand on her other shoulder. "Are you all right, my child?" he asked with his usual fatherly worry. She looked to her former mentor and then to the warrior again.  
  
"Yes... Redcliffe... we should go...just give me five minutes." She muttered as stammered out the room. The blonde warrior took a long inquiring glance on Cullen before he followed her alongside with Irving.  
  
Cullen didn't look after her. Solona Amell, the girl who was the fire itself was dead. She was just an abomination like all the mages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Cullen :( 
> 
> It broke my heart to torture him like this.


	14. Some Beauty in the Storm of Despair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Redcliffe and the fall of her Circle, Solona feels herself broken and Alistair tries to comfort and reassure her that she is not alone in this.

Solona wanted to be alone. Nothing more, but it seemed to be impossible. Every time she wanted to slip away for a bit of solitude somebody always stopped her. Sten with the complaining about a lost sword of him which he lost in a battle at somewhere Lake Calenhad. Wynne, who joined them after the fall of the Circle, with her comforting, and somehow her motherly care made her annoyed this time. Leliana with her girl talks, Morrigan with nagging her to get a peek of the grimoire she obtained at the Circle, and Zevran with his constant flirting. Like the whole world conspired against her.  
  
These were trying weeks for her. The first trial what she couldn't even decide that passed or failed.  
  
In Redcliffe the constant floods of undead, the desperation of the townspeople, the smell of rotten flesh and death and the madness of the Arl's son, Connor. And... Jowan. The most absurd place to meet with him again. She released him despite everything he had done. She just couldn't do it. She couldn't handle him to the Circle to make him a Tranquil. She released him but made it clear that she never wanted to see him again.  
  
For the first time in her life, she couldn't descend to the Fade, she couldn't reach Connor. She was too upset because of Jowan to succeed.  
  
So she went to the Circle for help. And what she had to face there was beyond every horror she could imagine. Her former home flooded by demons and abominations covered with blood, human flesh, and corpses. It burned into her mind. Enchanters and apprentices lied on the floor dead or raved in the madness of blood magic. And she had to kill them. She had to kill the apprentices with whom she grew up together, and her tutors from who she learned so much. Even if they hated her, this was the only home she remembered and knew and it was tainted in blood-soaked madness. Every casted spell was like a blade tearing her veins, like with every spell she died a bit and lost a little fragment of herself.  
  
And as she stood over the scorched corpse of Surana, her rival, the girl who hurt her so many years and who she have just burned alive, something broke in her. The madness she saw in her eyes like she was an unleashed beast intoxicated by the maddening power of blood magic.  
  
She so hated blood magic and hated every blood mage and for a moment she just wanted to burn down the whole place to purge it. She heard the constant whisper of the demons to do it and for an insane moment, she wanted to listen to them to let the rage and despair overwhelm her and destroy the Hold leaving nothing behind just smoldering ruins and charred corpses. And when Cullen asked her to do the same she was sure this whole horror wasn’t real. That she was in a Fade, stuck in a nightmare and a demon tries to consume her again.  
  
And then... _Cullen._  
  
It still echoed in her mind how odiously he called her an abomination. The hatred in his eyes as he spat those terrible things on her. He became a real templar after all breaking her heart leaving eating agony behind. They killed Cullen, they killed the boy he knew and love and nothing left behind just a broken mess. Aldred took away everything from her, tainted everything that she has ever had or loved.  
  
She went back to the Harrowing Chamber to Uldred's corpse before they left. She stood over it and tried to swallow the passions in her. She tried not to hear the demons whispering to her. She tried not to feel the rage and hatred  but it overwhelmed her. And with a snarl, she cast a lightning whip on his lifeless body, and then another and another until nothing left of him just an unrecognizable pile of flesh. She wanted to revenge everything, wanted to not feel his and Jowan's and Surana's blood on her skin. She panted as watched her handiwork. She tried to cry, but she couldn't. It stuck in her rotting her from inside. She could do nothing just scream until the last drop of air left her and collapsed to the ground. She watched Uldred's remains. She watched what she had done with him, watched as his blood soaks her clothes. Cullen was right. She was an abomination.  
  
With lyrium, she could finally reach the demon and Connor in the Fade. And she not just killed the demon she wanted to destroy its twisted realm. She wanted to purge the Fade, destroy every demon and spirit which screamed in her mind. She rampaged in frantic madness setting everything on fire like she could really destroy it. But nothing could ease the fury in her, nothing satisfied her hunger for vengeance and her desire for silence.  
  
As she reached her tent, because that was the only good thing of these trying days, that Bann Teagan, the brother of the Arl gave them some, she was fed up with everything. She was fed up with her companions who always nagged her with something. She was fed up that she hasn't slept in bed for weeks now. She was fed up that she could barely take a bath. She was fed up that she had to be strong and she had to lead although she had no idea what she was really doing or how she will defeat the Blight.  
  
She dropped her backpack and staff on her bedroll and growled in frustration as she felt the aching knot in her throat countless times since they left Kinloch Hold and still she couldn't cry. She wanted to run away, leaving the whole place to perish in darkness, and after what she saw these days it didn't worth to save anyway. She never wanted this, never wanted to be a Grey Warden, never wanted to save the world.  
  
The only thing she wanted to be alone pulling herself together, some peaceful hours to shield herself and remind herself why she is doing this. But she knew she hasn't got an answer to this question. She was tired and she felt herself selfish and coward for wanting to quit. But she couldn't find a reason good enough to stay.  
  
She was about to leave the camp when Alistair stopped her. "Solona, now that we are in camp I want to talk about what happened in Redcliffe… and the Circle Tower." But Solona didn't want to talk about it. She hasn't got enough strength for it.  
  
"Alistair, it's not the time" She tried to get rid of him. "And you were there, you perfectly know what happened." and she wanted to walk away, but he took her arm.  
  
"Yes, I know. And I had enough time to think about it," he replied. "I just wanted to thank you, for saving Connor and Lady Isolde and the townspeople of Redcliffe although it would have been easier letting them die." The comforting and soft voice of Alistair made her uneasy. She already struggled with her tears and she couldn't allow any of her companions to see her cry. She couldn't afford to show any sign of weakness. But he didn't release her. "There are so many death and destruction and I'm so glad that we could save them, even if this was small." Solona couldn't hear it anymore. He talked about her like she was some kind of her, but she wasn't. She was weak and fallible and most of all coward because she wanted to quit.  
  
"And about the Circle..." That was more than enough for her. She didn't want to listen to him anymore. She wanted silence and solitude.  
  
"Alistair, please, just let me go." she cut him, her voice almost drowned into a cry. She began to run as fast as she could. She heard that he cries after her, but she only could feel the burning tears in her eyes, and the choking knot in her throat. She ran didn't know even where just away from everything until she tripped over a rock and fell into the dirt.  
  
She kneeled there on her hands and knees watched the ground under her and trembled. She heard the whispers and she began to listen to them. She began to listen that she should run away destroying everything that tries to destroy her. Cullen was right. She was an abomination. A plaything of the demons. A cruel joke of the Maker like all the mages. Her power wasn't a gift. It was a damned curse and she wanted to give it back before it takes away her remained sanity.  
  
_Solona Amell never cries._ But she wanted, she so wanted, but she couldn’t. She just kneeled there trembling, so many things stuck in her and ate her from inside and she was angry to the whole world but most of all to herself. She was supposed to be strong, fighting against all odds and yet she was a broken mess. She felt so lonely than never before.

* * *

It took hours to be able to get on her feet and go back to the camp. She couldn't do it. She couldn't leave everything and everybody behind letting them perish in the darkness. She was a Grey Warden, who meant to stop the Blight and she couldn't leave Alistair alone in this. And she had to figure out what they could do to defeat the Archdemon. And she knew that despite everything Alistair couldn't win this just by himself.  
  
Everybody was sleeping when she arrived. And she was so grateful that nobody saw her stammering broken to her tent. Barkspawn slept peacefully before her tent. She crouched to the dog to pet its head. She so envied the mabari. She couldn't sleep since they left Kinloch Hold. If not the visions about the Archdemon then those terrible images haunted her or demons tried to twist everything which was still untouched in her.  
  
Someone patted her back and she stood up and turned saw Alistair, handing a blood-red rose to her. "Here, do you know what this is?" he asked.  
  
"Is that some kind of tricky question, this is a rose." she answered in wearied tone, trying to make it clear that she wanted to be alone.  
  
"Yes, absolutely. I'm trying to trick you. Is it working?" His voice was so sweet that Solona couldn't hold back a chuckling. "I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking ' _How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?_ ' I probably should leave it alone, but I couldn't. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So I've had it ever since." Solona looked at the rose. She had never seen more beautiful in her like or at least it seemed in that moment.  
  
"I thought that I might give it to you, actually," he continued. "In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you." She snapped her head on this and as her eyes met with Alistair's hazel eyes a wave of blunt pain flushed through her body, washing away everything that ate her It was disturbingly unfamiliar and pleasant, unlike any she has ever felt before.  
  
Alistair took an uncertain step toward her. "I guess it's a bit silly, isn't it? Just thought that here I am... and our illustrious companions... doing all these complaining and you haven't exactly been a good time yourself. I can't even imagine what you had to endure when you saw your Circle in ruins and I doubt I will ever be. You've had none of the good experience of being a Grey Warden since your Joining, not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death and fight and tragedy." He took another uncertain step to her and Solona felt that her heart began to beat a bit harder "I thought I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this darkness."  
  
She cast down her glance hearing this. "Don't say this." she cut her. "I'm not. I'm a mage. And what we saw in the Circle was the thing we have to offer then I'm an abomination." Alistair took another step, closing the gap between them and with his fingers gently propped her chin making her look at him again.  
  
"No, you are not. An abomination would have let the people of Redcliffe die. An abomination would have killed Connor without hesitation. An abomination would have let the templars destroy the Circle. But you didn't. And you are nothing like the mages we saw there. You are strong, dauntless and..." His voice trailed off and he looked away nervously releasing her chin.  
  
"Thank you,” she whispered uncertainly and headed to her tent. But at halfway something made her turn back. "Alistair, thank you, really. Not just the rose..." she searched for the words but nothing seemed to be right, nothing could describe what she really wanted to say to him. "I know I can be very antagonistic but you have to understand..."  
  
"I know." he cut her. "But you are a Grey Warden now. And this means _you will never be alone again_." Solona raised her eyebrows to this. "I will always here for you and you'll always have a shoulder to lean on."  
  
And this broke something in her, letting that eating pain spread in her body. And those burning tears in her eyes finally trickled down her face.  
  
She stormed to him and began to cry burying her face into his chest. She sobbed frantically for hours, soaking his shirt with her tears.  She cried until everything, every pain left her body and nothing else left, just emptiness. And Alistair just embraced her and silently comforted her. He did nothing just was there for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alistair's rose scene is my favorite Dragon Age romance scene ever :)
> 
> Anyway, thoughts about the chapter?


	15. An Assassin, a Mage and a Warrior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party has learnt that Brother Genetivi and the Urn of the Sacred Ashes somewhere near Haven in the Frostback Mountains. So they head to there and camp at the foothills. Solona grabs the opportunity to take a bath at the near hot spring lake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a kinda filler chapter, explaining some things and have some rest before the next set of events :)
> 
> Switches between Zevran, Alistair and Solona POV
> 
> Also some NSFW stuff

Zevran watched them for a while now, since they left Redcliffe. The coy glances they shared, the blush on their faces when they accidentally touched each other, the awkward silence what sat on them when they tried to speak with the other.  
  
Solona became somehow different after they left Redcliffe to find the ashes which were supposed to save the Arl's life. She became a bit more opened, joining to the others at the campfire, joyfully chatting with Leliana or the old mage they picked in the Circle, she even smiled and giggled as listened the bard’s stories attentively with sparkling eyes. She more often asked their opinion about everything beside Alistair. Like they weren't an inconvenient necessity anymore, but real companions.  
  
But she still spent most of her time in her fellow Warden's company. They went on every scout together, they spent nights over the map of Ferelden and discussed strategy or just sat next to each other and stared the dancing flames of the campfire without any words. She was different in Alistair's company. She was shy and uncertain, looking to him with innocent doe-eyes. She responded Zevran's every flirt with flippancy without any blush or flinch, but with Alistair she was clumsy, always searching for the right words. Not that Alistair was different in her company. He always tried to hush these awkward situations away with a lame joke on what she always giggled, filling the whole forest with her tinkling voice.  
  
Something was blooming between the two. The assassin stated, also Leliana. The bard was happy that there was something pure and innocent in these dark times and she never missed to mention how cute they are.  
  
But Zevran didn't like it at all. He wanted to bed this girl but ruining a budding romance wasn't his style. He wasn't worried about Solona. She was anything but innocent, but Alistair was a completely different case. He was inexperienced, it was obvious, and shy and he would definitely chicken out because of a little competition.  
  
He wanted to tame this girl. She was wild and energetic when she fought. And the more he examined her style, the more he was confused. She was a mage, a powerful and dangerous kind, but sometimes she fought like a rogue, using every advantage of the ground, casting a spell when it was inevitable. And that sparkling dauntlessness in her eyes when she noticed an enemy. She was graceful and admirably flexible when evaded strikes. He was certain that she would have been an excellent assassin, one of the deadliest and maybe that was the reason he so wanted her. He didn't love her, he left this for Alistair but he felt increasing the urge to see her submitting his will.  
  
And he had to act soon, before Alistair twist her head completely which was the matter of time, in fact.  
  
"Shouldn't I... accompany you?" Zevran heard the uncertain question from behind. It was Alistair asking Solona. "There are spiders in these caves and... wolves."  
  
"There is a hot spring lake in the cave at the foothills. I'm planning to take a bath. Care to join?" she responded not as confidently as she used to. Alistair became red to his ears and snickered anxiously.  
  
"I don't think it would be appropriate." he stammered. Solona nodded and turned on her heels and took her strides lightly swaying her hips, but it seemed overwrought, not so natural when she did the same with Zevran.  
  
"But I could guard..." Alistair stopped her. "You know to protect you from... swooping." Zevran googled his eyes to this mild attempt of flirting like she was a little girl lost in the forest. But Solona just giggled about it so tinkling like a songbird as turned back to the Warden.  
  
"I can handle it, little soldier-boy," she replied. "I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."  
  
"Now, we agree on this," he replied. Solona still giggled as cast a last, coy glance on Alistair as left the camp.  
  
And Zevran knew that this was his only chance to act, so he followed the mage girl.

* * *

Solona was so grateful when she noticed the cave on the map. She hasn't had an opportunity for a proper bath for almost a month now, since they left Redcliffe, just when they spent a night in Denerim searching for Brother Genetivi, who was supposed to know where the Urn of Sacred Ashes is. And she felt dirty and stinky from the smell of the blood of the ones who died by her hands. It was a salvation to finally scrub that scent of death from her skin, to not feel the unholy calling of the blood. It still haunted her, the spilled blood and rotten flesh in the Circle, she still heard the whispers, and she still had nightmares, although not as often as before. And Alistair was always there when she startled from them, embracing her comfortingly.  
  
It was just a bad dream. He always whispered to her ears. And to him, she even believed it.  
  
The cave was near the camp. It was warm and humid comparing the outside with those chilling autumn winds harbingering the coming winter. It was calm like the time froze there like it was a peaceful sanctuary in the despair of the Blight. The ground was covered with fluffy moss bed, in the center the steaming and crystal-clear lake with a rushing waterfall. From the slimy walls, deep mushrooms grew to light the place with dim light, just like those glowing crystals from the ceiling.  
  
She went to the edge of the lake, dropping her staff and backpack and unbuttoning her enchanter coat, letting it slide down from her body. She massaged her worn-out neck and lingered on the thought how long she hasn't seen the stars in the night sky. Since Ostagar the sky was gray like ash in daytime and pitch dark at nighttime. Only the moon shone on them ominously. She even mentioned this to Alistair...  
  
She grunted as tried to hush away this thought and sat down to unlace her boots. Alistair occupied her thoughts more and more times since she cried herself to sleep in his arms. She treasured that rose he gave her, casting a light ice spell on it every time to preserve it as long as she could. It was disturbingly uncomfortable. How easily she could forget Cullen and how uncertain she was in the company of Alistair. That blunt and strangely pleasant sensation what shivered through her sometimes when she spoke with him.  
  
This feeling was new to her and despite her every effort to not to she began to trust in her fellow Warden, even so, she liked him. And this made her uncertain and shy and most of all vulnerable, what she was never supposed to. Her pride never allowed her to be weak, but near Alistair, she could be nothing else just weak. He understood her, not feared her, not wanted to control her, not admired her or was obsessed with her, just understood, like nobody else before.  
  
She didn't want Alistair's nearness. She needed it. And this was frighteningly new sensation. Her pride never allowed her to depend on anybody and she never needed anybody. She was alone against the whole world and learned her lesson well. Even Cullen couldn't break this rule. Maybe she loved him, maybe it was just a sweet dream in the Fade but she never needed the templar.  
  
She kicked down the boots from her legs and got rid of her trousers, shirt, and underwear. She stood at the edge of the lake and tentatively touched the surface of the water by the tip of her toe to feel how hot it is. It was warm, caressed her sole. She ducked into the water and dived as deep as she could, but never reached the bottom. So eventually when her lungs ran out of air she came to the surface and lay upon it. As she floated she watched the glowing crystals over her. For a moment they were like stars and she began to search the constellations, drawing them into the air and listened to the gurgle of the water. It was like there was no war raging outside that cave. She didn't know how much he was in this peaceful state before she swam to the banks and leaned on it. That was the moment she noticed Zevran.  
  
She didn't look around when entered the cave. Only Alistair knew her destination and she was sure that her fellow Warden is too bashful to follow her. But it seemed the assassin overheard them. She ran her eyes through the elf as he sat on a rock, his one knee drawn to his chest, the other casually swung. She found him attractive with his long golden hair and sun-tanned skin and the tattoo framed his face. His devil-may-care attitude was compelling and she was sure that he must have been a very skilled lover, perfect for some distraction.  
  
"Care to join, assassin?" she smirked.  
  
"I'm just enjoying the entrancing view of this place," he answered casually as always, his voice spiced with that irresistible Antivan accent. Solona wondered how long he has been there, watching her.  
  
"In that case, would you be so kind turning around? I'd like to come out." Zevran politely nodded and turned facing to the exit of the cave.  
  
Solona leaned on her palms and pulled herself out from the lake and sat on the bank, with her back to him. Her legs were still in the water. She squeezed the water out from her long hair and brushed through with her fingers, casting a very delicate fire spell on it to dry.  She didn't look behind, but she knew that he took some fast and short glances on her. She knew why he was there but heaven knows why she had a mood to play. Alistair was too real to deal with but he was just a casual dalliance.  
  
"So you came here to admire a cave?" She asked as reached for her backpack and took out the scented oil from it. She massaged it into her skin, slowly, leaving it to spread its scent in the whole place.  
  
"You know, little minx..." he began. "...you made me wonder. You combat style is very unique. You fight almost like a rogue, like the Crows themselves trained you." She snickered, her voice filling the cave.  
  
"You are not far from the truth, assassin." She replied as stood up and began to dress up. "I can descend the Fade without lyrium since I was twelve. The spirits call me Dreamwalker. I saw memories in the Fade, ancient forms of fight, the style of the Crows was among them. I began to imitate the moves I saw there, but I had nobody to practice with. Then I met this spirit, the Spirit of Agility. It taught me, trained me but I could never test my abilities in practice." She was fully dressed and braided her hair. "Until I met you." It sounded more perky or seductive than she intended.  
  
"You may turn now." Zevran did.  
  
"You are full of surprises, dear Warden." he hummed with a honey-glazed smirk on his face. She slowly walked to the elf swaying her hips, the assassin's eyes constantly on her.  
  
"However, I could always use some more practice. As I heard the Antivan Crows master many arts during their training. Dueling, mixing poisons, sneaking..." She leaned over his ears "... making love." She whispered and with a smirk withdrew a few steps. "I would like to learn several of these." Zevran laughed.  
  
"Ohh, I can teach you many of these, although I mastered one in particular." And he brushed his hands down her cheek and neck, but she grabbed his wrist.  
  
"Let's begin with the basics. Dueling," she suggested. Zevran looked around.  
  
"Here?" Solona nodded with a perky smirk on her lips. Zevran responded it and drew out his blades, dropping one of them to Solona. "I have to warn you, I'm an adamant trainer." he hummed. "You will not be spared." Solona played with the dagger in her hand idly as swept her eyes through the cave.  
  
"If you can reach me, assassin." she mocked.  
  
Zevran laughed. "It will be fun to break your pride, little minx."  
  
And he swished his blade before her but she just stepped away. Zevran was surprised for a moment but she just smiled at him insolently. Zevran attacked again, but she just jumped out of the way of his blades. She practically danced him around and evaded his every attempt to entrap her. But Zevran now knew she always becomes careless at some point, and he had to wait for the right moment and when it came he kicked her feet and made her fall to the ground. The next moment he was upon her, taking his other dagger from her hand and crossing them at her throat.  
  
"So you are not so invincible without the help of your magic. My, my. " he hummed. "I think I caught a little vixen here and now I'm here to claim my prize." And he lowered his blades and kissed her.  
  
Solona let him deepen it, while her hands blindly searched for something. He was an excellent kisser indeed, better than Anders or Cullen has ever been, perfectly knowing how she liked to be kissed, biting her lips just to demand a bit more every time. His hand began to travel down her chest waist and hips until he reached the side of her shirt and he began to pull it up on her body. And suddenly her hand found what she was looking for.  
  
As they parted she grabbed it and turned Zevran to his back, sat on his abdomen and pressed the blade to his throat. "Never let down your guards, assassin, "she smirked. "They never taught you that?"  
  
But Zevran wasn't surprised this time. He grabbed her wrist and took advantage on his physical supremacy over her. With a swift movement, he shoved her from himself to the ground, pinning her hand which held the blade over her head. This so surprised her that she dropped the dagger.  
  
"So you play dirty, little minx." And he pressed his knees against her leg eliciting moans from her. "I like this." He kissed her again and continued to pull her shirt off her. As he managed to take it off, as well as her brassiere, while he planted soft kisses on her neck and shoulder, which she rewarded with lustful gasps. He began to travel down her body. But for a moment he sat up and brushed his finger on her upper body and looked through it, seemingly satisfied with the view.  
  
It was a so casual distraction, no emotion attached, and simple, satisfying primal needs. He leaned over her breast and began lick and suck it greedily while his hand wandered lower. Solona's back arched on that sensation and she felt that everything began to be a liquid hotness in her. He planted kisses on her abdomen while his skilled hands unlaced her trousers.  
  
And suddenly an image flashed before her eyes.  
  
_Alistair is sitting at the swamp, broken after the battle of Ostagar._ Zevran's hand smoothed down the valley of her breasts. Another image.  
  
_Alistair and she are sitting at the campfire silently after her nightmare._ Zevran's hand reached the waist of her trousers and wanted to slip in, but she only could see a new memory coming alive before her.  
  
_Alistair is handing her that rose and she is sobbing in his arms._  
  
"No." She gasped and this made Zevran stop.  
  
He looked up at her confused. "Did I hurt you?" he asked worryingly.  
  
"Maker, no." She reached out for her garments and he let her. "I just can't do it." She apologized as tried to put on her brasserie and shirt. She tried to avoid his eyes. "I can't explain you, I'm sorry."  
  
Zevran propped her chin forcing to look at him. "It's Alistair, isn't it?" he uncertainly nodded. The assassin sighed as stood up and took away his daggers. "Well, he is a very lucky man," he stated stoically.  
  
"I'm sorry for deceiving you." She apologized as stood up. "I thought I can. In the past, this just came so easily." It did. Making love was just a game, a tool as Anders always taught to her. Everything was easy and simple.  
  
"You don't need to apologize, Solona. I respect your decision." She gratefully nodded and went for her staff and backpack and put on them.  
  
She turned to the elf once again, looking uncertainly, wrangling her hands. "In any event, I would like to learn the skills of an assassin. The traditional ones."  
  
"Why?" Zevran asked running his inquiring eyes through her. "You are a mage from the deadliest kind. You have enough power to defeat anybody."  
  
Solona took some uncertain step, raising her eyes on the assassin, trying to force a casual looking smile on her face. "You never know when it comes handy," she answered.  
  
It was a casual lie, but he didn't need to know the truth. Nobody should know the truth that she needed something to distract her thoughts to not hear those voices still whispering to her, telling her terrible things and she tended to listen to them. She needed something keep her sanity, to not succumb to the demons, something to focus on.  
  
Zevran still surveyed her but eventually with a hum turned and headed to the exit of the cave. "Tomorrow, after setting the camp." and he left her there.

* * *

Alistair saw Zevran leaving after Solona. He so hated the assassin that he had no could confidently flirting with her while he felt himself like a complete idiot every time he spoke to her. He so hated that he had no inhibitions which made impossible to take a move.  Even giving her that rose took more courage than he thought.  
  
And the assassin was just playing with her, he never deserved her and he would never be. She was so incredible and fragile as she cried her herself to sleep in his arms. He couldn't release her, held her whole night feeling her every little tremble. She was a beautiful creature of this world and he couldn't tell her better than with that rose, but now it seemed it was just a waste of time.  
  
He should have been the one who went after her, telling her what he feels once again, instead Zevran left to take his move, what he just watched helplessly because he was damn too bashful.  
  
As he tortured himself saw the assassin coming back to the camp, alone, he felt the great urge to come clean with him. "Look, Zevran..." he began as reached him. "Solona is a very rare and wonderful beauty of this world, but she is very fragile. And if you are just playing with her..." The assassin burst out in laughter, making Alistair touch the hilt of his sword unwittingly. He just played with her and this made him furious.  
  
"You are barking, at the wrong tree Alistair, my friend," he said jovially. "The Lady's heart is already occupied.  And I can only say that the chosen one is a very lucky man." He patted his shoulder and with a wink he entered his tent.


	16. Dissension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona and the party defeated the dragon cult in Haven and they entered the Temple of Sacred Ashes and the Gauntlet to prove their worth for Andraste's ashes.

The Temple of Sacred Ashes was ancient, protected with some unfamiliar and primeval magic. Solona has never felt something like this before. Like her energies boiled the blood in her, making her delirious. Like she had a high fever, like she lingered between dream and wakefulness. Like she was in the Fade and yet she was sure she was awake. Maybe it was just exhaustion but as she stepped through the giant gates of the temple took the strides her legs became lead heavy.  
  
The air was warm, humid, almost smothery, in the mountains, it was dry and cold. Like when she entered the temple she stepped into another realm, where nothing and everything was real. She heard the whispers of the demons, they embraced her, tempted her like always, but just when she wanted to succumb to these voices and this delirium she felt boiling in her veins, wanted to give in and her vision darkened, and her legs sagged, someone caught her from collapsing and heard a choked groan.  
  
And the outside world became sharp again, the whispers silenced, only her energies rampaged in her. She looked at Alistair, saw the worry in his eyes. She straightened and before he could ask anything she nodded to his unsaid question and smiled uncertainly.  
  
She was weak, weaker by every day. Her mind began to succumb to madness. She listened to the voices and more and more times felt indescribable rage, heard the Archdemon calling her, heard the demons succumb to her real nature and every time she killed somebody she didn't feel remorse or pity.  
  
They deserved death. She heard the whispers. Like the blood mages at Kinloch Hold.  
  
A guard waited for them in ancient armor, like he was a memento of a bygone era. He looked right to Solona searching something in her with his lyrium-blue eyes.  
  
"Greetings, Pilgrim." he greeted her. Solona raised her eyebrows. Was she really awakened? Or it was a very convincing dream? She couldn't decide that a living person or a spirit stands before her. She felt the lyrium veins running through the mountain and her reasonable part knew that this is responsible for the illusion of the Fade, her weakness but she was too tired to listen to it.  
  
She bit her lips, felt the pain. It was the reality and yet it seemed so surreal. She looked to Wynne, tried to find some reassurance that she hasn't completely lost her mind.  
  
"Are you a spirit?" she asked in weak voice and tried to stay her heavy eyelids open. She felt the lyrium singing to her, heard the Archdemon calling her and she could swear that a rage demon exhaled fiery breaths on her neck.  
  
"I'm the Guardian of the Gauntlet, the trial to prove your worthiness to lay your eyes on the sacred ashes," he answered. Solona tried to pacify herself, took the breaths deeply, tried to see clearly in this mist of delirium.  
  
"Then test me, Guardian." she replied.  
  
"It is not my place to decide your worthiness. The Gauntlet does that."  
  
Why don't you just kill him? She heard the whisper. Why should you play time wasting games? Just get what you have come for.  
  
She shouldn't listen but it hummed into her ear so sweetly, always offering the easier way. She gripped the shaft of her staff, deepened her nails in it, until it almost broke, and tried to swallow the temptation. But something in her screamed to cast that spell what burned her from inside to end this thing right here and just get the ashes and this feeling blurred everything.  
  
She didn't have faith in Andraste, how should she? She was a mage, an abomination, why shouldn't she act like one, why shouldn't she get something in an easy way for once in a lifetime? If there is a Maker and her sacred wife have never been in her favor, why should she respect them?  
  
"There is suffering in you, Pilgrim. Suffering and dissension." the Guardian said as his lyrium-blue eyes almost stabbed her through. Solona raised her eyes to him, glimmering in fever and deepened her nails more in her staff until they broke and her own blood begrimed it. And she felt the scent of it that intoxicated smell of sweetness of her own hot liquid ingrained with magic and taint. There was no pain, just infinitive power what made her free.  
  
Why don't you just kill him?  
  
Everything screamed in her and everything is darkened around her. There was nothing else, just her and the Guardian, and she felt that her magic slowly and invisibly embrace him. Feeling her blood trickling down her hand just made her more power lust. She could kill him with a single gesture. One more or less, who cares anymore? She was too weak to resist anymore. And she only needed...  
  
"Maker, your hand!" A voice penetrated to the haze of madness and she looked on it, covered with the sticky red liquid, the snag of her broken nails and felt the piercing pain trembling through her body uncontrollably, and the sound of her pounding heart suppressed any other voice. Eventually, her legs gave up and she collapsed to the ground and everything became dark.

* * *

She woke up in a great hall, huge, cold and dark, only the bluish-greenish light of the veilfire illuminated a man-sized mirror in the middle of the room. Solona looked on her injured hand and it was intact. She felt the humid and choking air around her leaving weeping vapor drops on her skin.  
  
She was in the Fade. And in a very strange way this certainty gave her calamity.  
  
Solona slowly stood up and ignited a tiny flame in her hand to what the whole place began to breathe almost blinding light. When her eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness she looked around the sumptuous chamber. The ceiling was suspended with giant ivory columns on which golden creeping ivy ran around. She ran her fingers on the delicately formed leaves as looked on the ceiling covered with a fresco picturing the night sky and a giant chandelier, made by sparkling red crystals and as the light illuminated gave the illusion of flaming. The walls were covered with colorful murals and mosaics with familiar signs, what she eventually recognized from the books Irving gave her about elven lore. It was the sign of Sylaise. She was her favorite from the pantheon, the one who gave the fire for the elves. She smoothed her finger down the redundant lines of her symbol and suddenly the air wasn't choking anymore. A light breeze caressed her skin, bringing the sweet and fresh scent of the spring.  
  
The floor made of the finest marble, polished to mirror-smooth, she could see her own reflection in it.  
  
And she looked different. Her hair combed and braided over her head to a lush and elegant bun, fixed with a head-dress, resembling golden leaves. The layers of fine deep-crimson fabric of her dress fell on her lightly. The upper part embroidered with delicate golden ornaments covering her chest with it. Even her shoes were gold, wrapping her calf with curlicue straps. She looked like a royalty, noble and untouchable.  
  
The whole place was familiar like she knew it from another life like she belonged to there. Like this was all hers once and now she just reclaimed it. She couldn't sate her eyes with the place, gazing the fresco, the night sky what she so missed, almost forgetting where she is, until her eyes stuck on the mirror in the middle of the room.  
  
It illuminated in pale cerulean light, alluring her to touch it. Everything allured her to touch it, but that mirror, it was magnetizing. Solona approached it to see her reflection in it, but something wasn't right. She touched her ear and the reflection did the same.  
  
It was her and yet it wasn't. The same ginger hair, the same emerald green eyes, even her freckles were at the exact place, the lines of her face, everything was the same, except that an elf girl looked back at her from the mirror. Solona looked her image on the polished floor and it was her, but in the mirror, she still saw the one with pointy ear and slender figure. Her fingers trailed at her ears again and they were round as they were supposed to be. She took a few steps back and the reflection did the same. And she felt her energies again, her pounding heart, even the piercing pain of her broken nails. The bright place became darker and the murals on the wall changed. She saw the elf girl on them and the other figures worshiped her, wearing a tattoo on their faces with Sylaise's symbol.  
  
Her mind played with her, the Fade played with her, the demons played with her and she almost fooled.  
  
_Touch the seeing glass._  
  
She heard a silky female voice speaking in Elvish. She looked around in her shock, but there was no one else just her.  
  
_Touch the seeing glass._  
  
She heard again and began to take the uncertain steps to the mirror and as soon as her fingertips grazed the surface of the glass it began to swirl and the elf girl disappeared. She saw the Temple of Sacred Ashes and herself laying on the floor unconscious, Wynne was healing her and Alistair was trying to bring her back with paddling her cheeks.  
  
She touched the mirror once again what sucked her hand in. It was a portal, a way back to her reality. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and took a step toward. But before she could enter, somebody took her hand and pulled her from it.  
  
It was Alistair, guiding her into his arms, and music rang out, dancing couples appeared from the nothing and the hall became bright and sparkling again, a lush ball. Solona looked to the mirror what showed the elf girl once again in the arms of a young elf man with long black hair and intent storm-grey eyes, wearing the same elegant attire what was on Alistair. His appearance was regal, and his moves light and elegant.  
  
"Dance with me." he said and began to take the steps.  
  
Quick. Quick. Slow. Slow. Circling the hall. She felt his scent, that unmistakable mixture of sea biscuit and saffron, what so burned into her mind and inhaled every time he comforted her, the scent what made her heart beat faster and caused that pleasant and blunt wave of pain shivering down her body. She didn't dare to look at him, it was too tempting to get lost in this illusion. It was too tempting to give in.  
  
"You are ravishing tonight, little girl." Alistair hummed in honey sweet voice. "You are brighter than Andraste herself." Solona looked into the mirror once again, seeing the elven couple taking the same moves as they.  
  
"You are not him." she replied as freed herself from his hold and headed to the mirror.  
  
"Does it matter?" he cried after her and the music silenced and she came to a halt. She heard the sound of boots echoing in the suddenly very empty hall. She felt the heat of his body as he reached her and brought his fingers down her arms, causing goose bumps on her skin.  
  
"We could be happy here, far from the Blight." He whispered into her ears. "At the other side of that mirror only suffer and pain await you. He would eventually hurt you or what is more likely you would hurt him like you did with many before him." Solona closed her eyes and shook head. She shouldn't listen to him, she should know that it is only a demon tempting her.  
  
"You are a plague" The demon continued but it wasn't Alistair's voice anymore, it was Cullen's, and she felt his fingers deepening into her skin, hurting her, tearing it open. "You are more destructing than the Blight itself." He rattled into her ears. "You will ruin him, as you ruined me. You are the raging fire what destroys everything and leaves nothing behind just suffer and ashes."  
  
"No," Solona freed herself from the tightening grip and cast a spell setting on fire everything around her, and she heard screams, deafening screams crying out in suffering crescendo crawling into her mind. She ran to the mirror and see herself at the other side in the arms of Alistair, but this time, she couldn't enter no matter how much she banged the glass it didn't open for her, just cracked into tiny shards and like crystal flakes drifted to the ground. She leaned on the empty frame, watched as the flames slowly died out and the screams and wails grew silent and nothing left just dead and cold emptiness and the echoes of her sobbing.  
  
She crouched there trembling, crying, trapped in the Fade alone. She was alone and she was scared and too weak to fight anymore. They finally broke her. She waited for a demon coming to possess her to consume her, but no one came.  
  
_Wake up._  
  
She heard the same female voice whispering and everything became radiant white.

* * *

She heard somebody was calling her, she felt the tingling feeling of the healing magic on her skin. She heard Alistair's voice penetrating through the mist of her dizziness. And when she opened her eyes saw his hazel eyes filled with worry and horror.  
  
"Maker, you are awake!" he exclaimed. Solona shook her head to clear her still hazy mind, leaned on her elbows and looked around. She was at the Temple once again, in her body.  
  
"What happened?" she asked being unsure to want to know the answer.  
  
"You fainted." The answer arrived from Sten standing over her, the disdain in his eyes as he looked through her weak body. She was weak and she shouldn't. Gathering all her strength she stood up, taking a long glare on the Qunari making it clear that still she is still in charge and walked to the Guardian confidently.  
  
"Let me pass the trials." she demanded peremptorily.  
  
"Before you go, I have to ask," he said. "Do you have faith, Pilgrim?" She knew she didn't. She was a mage, in what should she believe in? Andraste? The Maker? In people who will betray her or she hurt eventually?  
  
"I'm an Andrastrian." She gave her answer. It wasn't a lie. She was raised by the principles of the Maker. She knew the prayers, the proverbs. The Guardian nodded and opened the gate for them.  
  
The trials were easy, answering puzzles, slaying ghosts, trespassing an invisible bridge. There was only one left before the chamber of the Urn. She entered into the pitch dark room and felt the choking air again like she entered to the Fade once again. Like she had fever once again and the blood in her boiled in delirium. Everything was silent, she even heard her own heartbeat. And she was alone, her companions were nowhere. She was so fed up with this place, with the mind games, with the tempting of the demons and began to regret that not accepted the offer of the dragon cult to destroy the Urn, not chose the easier path for once.  
  
"Having fun?" She heard a question echoing. The voice was familiar, a pleasant echo of her former life. Where everything was clear and simple.  
  
_Jowan._  
  
"What are you doing here?" she asked as saw him looming up in the light of her fire she lit the room.  
  
"I'm part of the Gauntlet, I'm Jowan, I’m the part of you, and I’m the creation of your wrecked mind." He answered as circled her. 'All these facts are true."  
  
"Just ask your question," she growled through her gritted teeth. Jowan snickered making Solona shudder. It reminded her of her Circle when they practiced at the training grounds when everything was simple when she was allowed to be playful and reckless when weakness was just a hateful word.  
  
“How hasty we are," he said jovially. Solona felt the rage in her increasing, heard the whispers again. Telling her terrible things. "You have always been impatient. But now you are rampaging. You felt the scent of your tainted blood, the sweetness of the unlimited power it provides. Do not fear the blood. It makes you free."  
  
"Just ask your fucking question," she yelled. "I'm fed up with your games." Jowan burst out in a laugh and she felt that her magic overwhelms her. The flames in her hand burned her skin, demanding to cremate this creature masquerading her old friend into ashes, the whispers telling the same to her.  
  
"So be it." he stopped before her. "What is your greatest fear, little girl?" he asked. She answered the first thing came to her mind.  
  
"Darkspawn."  
  
"Oh, come on..." She heard another voice, the voice she so hated through so many years and she felt the sickening stink of burned and festering flesh. "You can do better than that," Surana whispered into her ears as walked next to Jowan. "The invincible Solona Amell, who never breaks, fears a thing she can destroy with a single gesture? You are offending us." Solona looked at the elf, whose hair burned down, her bloody flesh smoldered and her eyes bathed in madness. They were reminders, painful reminders who came to blame, the darkest corner of her conscience.  
  
"I ask you again," she said as leaned over her. Nausea almost overwhelmed her by the smell of death came from her flesh. She killed her and now she came to reckon with her. "What is your greatest fear, little girl?"  
  
"Demons." She answered as tried to swallow the rising bile in her throat.  
  
" _LIAR_ " they yelled at her simultaneously at her. Surana grabbed her clothes and dragged her from inches of her burned and bloody corpse. "Look deeply into yourself, into the darkest nook of your miserable soul." Jowan walked behind her and leaned over her ear.  
  
"For the last time, what is your greatest fear?" Solona trembled. She knew the answer, but she was too coward to admit even to herself. Her greatest fear, her greatest fear, her greatest shame. It wasn't the darkspawn demons, blood magic, or even being alone against everything, it was something that was unconquerable, it was...  
  
"Myself." She answered squeezing her eyes, feeling the tears trickling down her face. "That one day I lose control over myself and become the abomination everybody says I am." She felt that Surana released her, and after a couple of moments, the stink of rotten flesh disappeared like never existed.  
  
She opened her eyes and the once pitch dark corridor was lit by torches and she saw a figure standing at the other side. As she took the steps ahead, and the blurry figure became clear she startled.  
  
She saw herself standing before her, grinning bestially, the madness glistened in her eyes. "What game is this now?" she asked in trembling voice while began to resign to the fact that she lost her mind. That they finally reached her, or she was still in the Fade trapped in a nightmare from what she couldn't wake up and her body was possessed by a demon now.  
  
"I'm your greatest fear, the one who you try to suppress." her other self looked into her eyes penetrating into her core, eating her from inside, rotting her body. "I am what you really are."  
  
"No," she said feebly, but she wasn't sure she believes her own words.  
  
She heard someone is calling her.  
  
"You could rule the world, being the greatest mage of all time, making everybody kneeling before your feet, licking it."  
  
"But I don't want it," she whispered, her voice trailing off.  
  
Her double took a step toward her, towering over and looked at her with annihilating disdain in her eyes like she was the real one and Solona just a pale imitation. "Then what do you want, little girl?" she asked sarcastically. She looked over the shoulder of herself and saw Alistair looking at her giving her certainty. He was real, the shelter in the storm of despair, the last ray of sanity in her. The only one who could give her peace.  
  
"I just want to be normal." She answered and walked away beside her, to Alistair, to get those bloody ashes and leave this place of nightmare, to not feel the weakness anymore.

* * *

"We should spend the night in Haven," Leliana suggested as they walked on the narrow mountain path down to the village. They had the ashes, they left the Temple and the delirium finally disappeared, but never the memories, the doubts, and the whispers. And the last thing Solona wanted is another night in this cursed place filled with blood, death, and shadows.  
  
"Haven is filled with dead bodies, who we killed," Solona replied. But a blizzard was behind them, and she either knew that they wouldn't reach the foothills before it reached them. But she just wanted this place to be behind her and she never wanted to look back. She wanted to leave her copy there like she could.  
  
She felt Alistair taking his hand on her shoulder protectively, trying to bring her to her senses. "You are weak, Solona, you could use some rest," he said worriedly.  
  
Solona pulled his hand away angrily. She couldn't afford to show it how lost she is, wanting only one thing, forget this place. "I'm not weak." She replied, not even looking at him. Alistair didn't release her, he never did, but now this just made her angry, made her energies rampage in her, uncasted spells burning her hand.  
  
He took her hand "Solona..." he almost pleaded.  
  
"I said _I'm not weak._ " She yelled and set the pine trees around them on fire, burning thousand years old trees into ashes in a few minutes. She hated them, she hated Alistair seeing through her and wanted to hurt him for it. She watched as the trees turned to smoldering and gangrenous stumps nothing left behind just destruction. And she heard her other self, whispering into her ears those words what frightened her to death.  
  
You are the raging fire what destroys everything and leaves nothing behind just suffer and ashes.  
  
Alistair watched the burning trees with horror, and she saw something new in his eyes as he looked at her. Fear. He feared her. And it felt right. If Alistair fears her she can't hurt him.He was safe from her, from the demons who allured her to harm him. He was safe from her madness.  
  
"We should proceed. We have to reach the foothills before dusk." She ordered and nobody questioned her anymore, just followed her silently. The forest was filled with disturbing and deafening silence. Even Morrigan and Alistair left each other alone. Something broke there, something lost in the blood- and ash-tainted snow.

* * *

They reached the foothill around midnight, just before the blizzard could reach them. Solona sat at the base of a tree, watched the fire as always, only her loyal mabari rested next to her, snoring peacefully. Nobody approached her, not even Alistair. She frightened them and fear was better than trust. If they fear her she won't able to hurt them if she becomes the abomination what was the matter of time. She won't hurt Alistair as she hurt Cullen. Even if she has to succumb to her real nature, she won't destroy everything.  
  
"You should eat, my child," Wynne said as handed some bread and cheese to her. Solona accepted it with a quick smile and turned her gaze back to the fire. "We should speak about Haven, Solona." The old mage sat beside her. Solona has made her choice, there was nothing more she could discuss, but she needed the Wynne to help her, she was the only one she could afford to trust in.  
  
"I need your help. I want to descend the Fade again regularly. Like I did with the Master." she said, not looking at her. It wasn't a request, it was an order, a declaration.  
  
"Solona, we don't have enough lyrium to perform..." the old mage tried to apologize.  
  
"I don't need you to descend with me." Solona looked on her, with unquestionable determination in her eyes. "I need you to kill me if I fail to return."


	17. I Care for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the party defeated the dragon cult and the high dragon and obtained a pinch of the Sacred Ashes of Andraste, they are heading back to Redcliffe to cure the Arl. But Alistair tries to hide that he is injured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this after 3-4 hours of sleeping (4th day in a row), so I suspect it is full with grammatical errors. Please forgive me, I'll correct it later :)
> 
> Anyway I hope you will enjoy it, and do not hesitate to tell your opinion. I welcome every feedback :)
> 
>  
> 
> [Suggested Listening: Taylor Swift feat. The Civil Wars - Safe & Sound](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RzhAS_GnJIc)

_It hurt like hell._ Two days in never-ending pain since they left Haven.  
  
Alistair injured during the fight with the high dragon at Haven. It shoved him with the tail and broke his bones. He could move but every step, every motion, every breath was an agony. It was a blessing that darkspawn or any other creature wouldn't approach the Frostback Mountains in these late autumn days. The fight avoided them, so he could hide his injury.  
  
He should call for healing, but he didn't. He didn't, because Wynne always made him discomfort with her taunting and she treated him like an ignorant teenage boy in the most annoying way he could imagine, making him tinged with embarrassment every time. He didn't because would endure all the endless agony of every hell instead of asking a favor from Morrigan. And he didn't because Solona had her own problems.  
  
Something happened with her at Haven, something broke in her as she stood there among her flames and her eyes darkened with suffering as she lied in his arms unconscious. She became distant once again, battling with something and never asking any help, never understanding that she is not alone. Alistair thought that with that rose he made it clear that she can always count on him and for a little, almost joyful time it seemed she even accepted this, but since they passed the gates of that bloody temple this fragile state of conformity just vanished and invisible darkness fell on them once again.  
  
She shouldn't be here. He stated in himself for a thousandth time. She should be somewhere safe far from this darkness.  
  
With this thought and with a painful groan he sat down on his bedroll. It became worse, even taking a single breath was painful. He should ask Wynne for a treatment, endure her comments about his so-called infatuation with a certain mage girl. How he takes glances on her swaying hips... how he is lost in her eyes... etcetera...etcetera. The old mage always found the most annoying way to mock him. He was even worse than Morrigan, who also never missed any opportunity to humiliate him. No, there would be sooner a freezing cold in the hell than asking a favor from them.    
  
Or just he asks Solona to do it... and maybe talking to her about...  
  
Clashes of blades. From the corner of his eyes saw her practicing duel with Zevran. He heard her angry and frustrated growls as she struck, he heard the elf's indecent comments about her style and flexibility, flirting with her and taunting shamelessly. Alistair never understood why these practices were necessary. She was already tired and worn-out even if she didn't admit. Alistair knew that she kept vigil through the last night, like so many before. The taint in the blood always gave visions and it always vanished eventually, but not for her. She startled from her nightmares almost every night, shuddered silently and her glassy eyes gazed into the void. She was frightened to death by something undefinable.  
  
She was at the end of her strength and yet she moved forward lead them and never complained.  
  
It was just a bad dream. How trite words these became. But he couldn't give better comfort. If only, he could.  
  
A frustrated growl and a blast, so loud that the whole forest quaked. Alistair forgetting his injury turned to the source trying to swallow the sudden and piercing pain what this inconsiderate movement caused. Solona stood over the laying Zevran, trying to pacify her breaths, her hands in a fist, squeezing the hilt of the daggers and trembling. Every eye was on her, waiting for an explanation or just that breaking-down what everybody predicted in silence since her tantrum in Haven. Everybody whispered behind her back that she maybe lost her grip there, but nobody dared to tell it to her in public.  
  
"No magic, Warden," Zevran ordered resentfully and Solona with another growl flung the daggers. One landed in the bole of a tree and another just inches from the assassin's head. And she stomped from the clearing into the benevolent darkness of the forest.  
  
"The lesson isn't over, Warden!" Zevran cried after her.  
  
"It is," she replied, her voice wore off in the cold air. Alistair looked after her, considered going after her, but as he tried to get up the agony in his chest palpitated almost unbearably. He needed a healer. He registered in himself resentfully as fell back onto his bedroll. And this was his last thought before his weariness conquered him.

* * *

Cracking of branches woke him up from his dreamless sleep and an approaching shadow loomed up in the light of the shimmery campfire. He reached out for his sword in reflex when he saw somebody was crouching next to him and he felt the tingling caress of magic on his skin. He reached out for the healing hands and grabbed them and looked on his helper. Those sparkling emerald green eyes looked back at him filled with tenderness, making his stomach spasm like always she was near him, feeling the hotness of her fiery touch.  
  
"What are you doing?" he asked still holding her wrist.  
  
"Healing you." she answered stoically "You injured and for some reason didn't ask us for treatment. Would you..." she asked and hinted to release her. He did and she speechlessly ran her skilled hands over him, avoiding his glance, thoughtfully concentrating what she was doing. Alistair gazed her tear-streaked face that unruly lock in her face and for a thousandth time he tried to solve her. He tried to figure out what ate her from inside and tried to figure out that why he found her so mesmerizing.  
  
"Off with your shirt." she ordered not even looking at him, just searching for something in her pouch tied to her belt.  
  
"What???" he cried out frightened, feeling that his cheeks began to burn in embarrassment, but Solona just repeated her command.  
  
"Three of your ribs are broken and I can't heal them through your shirt. Do as I said. Or I can ask Wynne to heal you if you are not so tinged with embarrassment with her." her voice wasn't comforting or even warm. It was cold and monotone, almost emotionless.  
  
Alistair reluctantly obeyed. With a painful groan, he sat up, but this was the easier part. Taking of his shirt was more problematic, making him growl in agony by every tiny motion. Solona came for his help, pulling it over his head. Just when they removed it and their eyes met he realized how close she was to him. His lips were only inches from hers and only a tiny movement and he could kiss her. And Maker preserves him, he so wanted.  
  
The world around him became still and silent. He could hear her erratic breath, feel the warm vapor it left behind on his skin and his heart beat a painful one and then skipped one. Their eyes stuck on each other, being lost in each other's speechlessly for long, infinite minutes before Solona turned her gaze away nervously and ordered him to lay down.  
  
She took her hands on his sore ribs and he felt as her tingling magic embraced him, knitted his bones and filled him with warmth. Her eyes were on her hands, not looking at him, not speaking to him, just healing him silently. And this silence was more deafening than any scream or battle cry.  
  
She took a short glance on the pitch dark night sky and pursed her lips. "You still miss them?" he asked and she nodded as an answer.  
  
"In the Circle, I could only see the stars in the astrarium and I always wanted to feel the fresh breezes of the night. Now I feel the breeze on my skin, but I can't see the stars." She bit her lips and swallowed a big one and Alistair saw those unshed tears in her eyes. "Why can't we get what we want how we want? Just once?" her voice trembled and here magic slowly faded and his bones were intact again.  
  
"Is it still hurt?" she asked as wiped those tears from her eyes. She didn't pay attention to Alistair's answer just reached out for a roll of lint and ordered him to stand up. He watched her movements as she wrapped his torso, the uncertainty in them, the almost invisible trembling of her. Alistair stopped her working hands, closed it into his. Solona didn't look up, just watched the half-fixed bandage on his chest.  
  
"What happened at Haven?" he asked. Solona released the lint and freed herself from his holding. She raised her eyes to him, but there was nothing good in it. Her glance was full of rejection.  
  
"It shouldn’t concern you." She replied and turned on her heels.  
  
Alistair reached out for her hand and grabbed it. "It _does_."  
  
" _Why_?" she riposted, not turning to him, just staring the almost died embers of the campfire.  
  
"Because I care for you," he answered without a second thought and just when it left his mouth realized his words. And suddenly the forest became still again. Even the howling wolves silenced, the wind ceased, the time froze. Solona looked at him questioningly, like she expected anything but that.  
  
"I know... It might sound strange... considering we haven't known each other for long... but I come to care for you... a great deal." His confession was so easy coming now. He wanted to tell her so long ago, but the proper words never came. Not even now, but it didn't matter, There was no turning back, he couldn't unsay his words, so why shouldn't he be bold once in a lifetime?  
  
''I don't know, maybe because we have gone through so much together, or maybe I'm just imagining it, but you know what, I don't care anymore because the only thing is certain and the only thing matters that I care for you." Solona just stared him, breathlessly for eternal moments. She opened her mouth but no sound came out from it.  
  
"Please say something, anything." Alistair pleaded. And the next moment she crashed her lips to his, claiming it with a fevered kiss. It was unexpected but passionate mapping each other's mouth eagerly, melting in it, forgetting everything around them, wrapping his arms around her and never want to release.  
  
Alistair kissed only two girls before her. He stole a kiss from a sister in the monastery where he spent his templar training, and a tavern trollop in Denerim when he was drunk for the first time. But they were nothing comparing to her. He couldn't satisfy himself with the sweetness of her lips, he couldn't trail into her mouth deep enough to not demand more. He bit her lips until it became bruised until he stole every bit air from her lungs.  
  
"No..." she protested and freed herself out from his arm and took a few steps back "...we shouldn't..." she heaved.  
  
"Why?" He asked wanting to close the distance again, but she receded simultaneously, shaking her head.  
  
"I could only hurt you," she answered, her voice trembled, almost drowned into a cry. "I can only bring suffer." And she turned away from him, heading to her tent.  
  
But Alistair didn't let her go this time. He was fed up that he couldn't tell her what he feels. Finally, he found his courage, found his voice, and it didn't matter anymore that he looked like an idiot. That kiss empowered him to be an idiot. And this time, she will listen to him through.  
  
"Do you know what's your problem is?" he cried after her. "I finally realized." It made her stop, but she didn't turn back, just stood there, her every muscle in spasm, her hands in a fist. "That you see yourself through the eyes of the templars, through those mages who always hated you. You see yourself as an abomination."  
  
"Because I'm one," she yelled, filling the whole forest with her trembling cry. "I'm a ticking bomb. You saw what I had done at Haven. I lost my control over myself and destroyed everything around me." Alistair took a few steps toward her, took his hands on her shoulder, feeling her tiny tremors of her inner battles and made one, last desperate attempt to make her understand.  
  
He exhaled kiss on the pate of her head inhaled her scent deeply, but with every sniff he wanted more of it until it intoxicates him. "I saw a girl who carries more weight what she can hold,” he whispered to her hair. "I saw a girl who no matter what stands up and goes forth. I saw you. Not a mage or an abomination or whatever you think you are. I saw you and I see you and nothing else, Solona. "  
  
She turned her face to him, her cheeks stained with her tears. "Then you should open your eyes." She replied and left him there. The weight her words echoed cruelly in the stillness.


	18. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona and the party spend some time in Redcliffe Castle to discuss the further plans with the awakened Arl Eamon, and Solona tries to descend the Fade and find some answers.

“I still greatly disapprove this, my child. Your state of mind is too fragile..." Wynne tried to dissuade her with motherly concern in her voice.  
  
"I did not ask your approval, I asked your help." Solona cut her impatiently as looked out the window of her room, and watched the reflection of the moon on Lake Calenhad and the nightlights of Redcliffe, which were like tiny fireflies in the cold and dry winter air. She listened the cracking sound of the burning logs in the fireplace, sniffed the unmistakable scent of the burning pine and tried to steel herself, not to be so frightened to death to descend to the Fade.  
  
They were trapped in the Redcliffe Castle for almost a week now. The winter blizzards closed every mountain path to Orzammar and they couldn't find any Dalish clan, they stuck in the quest for allies and she was perfectly aware that the support of the mages and the Arl's army wouldn't be enough to defeat Loghain and it's like a drop in the ocean against the Blight. So they just waited until Eamon's soldiers find any trace of the elves and tried to fabric schemes to what to do when the time finally comes. If it ever comes. There was news from everywhere of darkspawn attacks they plagued the whole southern region of Ferelden, leaving death, destruction and countless floods of refugees behind and they just sat in a castle and made plans that what should happen in a distant and uncertain future.  
  
Solona unwittingly touched her lips and brushed her fingers through it. She still felt the sensation of his skin on hers, the taste of his lips and every time that image, as they share, a kiss, swished through her mind her heart throbbing. Since they arrived in Redcliffe they barely spoke a word, just when they had meetings with the Arl and the Bann. Beside that and the meals, they never met.  
  
But still, she often found herself watching Alistair from the library window as practiced with Sten at the sparring field or eavesdropped his never-ending debates with Morrigan and his words echoed in her mind.  
  
_I care for you._ He shouldn't.  
  
"Solona, you can be easily stuck there. The demons can easily sense your weakness..."  
  
" _I'm not weak,_ " Solona yelled at the old mage. She so hated this word, she so hated even the thought that she is.  
  
_Solona Amell never shows any weakness._ But she did. And she knew the hushed whispers of her companions behind her back. She knew they say that her insanity is just a matter of time. But she won't give the satisfaction them to be right. She won't succumb without a fight.  
  
"I did this thousand of times in the Circle."  
  
"Under the strict supervision of Irving and Greagoir." Wynne riposted. Solona pursed her lips. If only she knew that she entered the Fade and walked in Cullen's dream without the awareness of her mentor or the Knight-Commander. The only difference was that time Fade was a shelter, a sanctuary, now her greatest nightmare.  
  
"Solona, my child. Even if you don't want to admit, your connection with the Fade became deleterious on you. As a dreamer..." Wynne lectured her, but she wasn't an apprentice anymore, she didn't have to listen to her.  
  
" _Enough!_ " she brawled as turned to the old mage. "I made my decision and it's final. I only need your help. Or I find someone else who will do the job if you cannot. I'm sure Morrigan or Sten would strike me to death willingly or even gladly." Flames licked the tip of her fingers, a spell what wanted to break free from her, so she clenched them into a tight fist, preventing it and tried to ignore that whisper in her mind that she should cremate Wynne alive for daring to question her will.  
  
"I won't fall for the demons or if I do, I will die." she declared peremptorily. Wynne released a sigh, shaking her head, but Solona knew that this was the sign of compliance or, at least, resignation. Solona nodded and sat on the fur carpet before the fireplace, feeling the soft caress of the blazes on her skin. The fire always gave her certainty, gave her power.  
  
She closed her eyes and let her energies flow in her unhindered, to coil her, embrace her until she felt like floating on a cloud. She hasn't done this for a while, but it felt like it was just yesterday she descended to the Fade willingly. It was natural, the tingling vibration of her own magic, the soft sounds of the eternal peace what she felt.  
  
_I care for you._ Echoed in the void, and she fell back into the reality.  
  
She opened her eyes and with a grunt shook her head. She needed to concentrate. She took a last and adamant glance on the worried Wynne and tried again. She let her magic embrace her once more, let it guide her through the Veil until the levitation ceased and she felt solid ground under her feet and felt her energies surged in her violently. The certain sign that she succeeded.  
  
She looked around. A glade with a running stream, the banks full with spindleweeds and lotuses. She felt the soft grass under her feet and the scent of the awaking nature. The scent of spring, the scent of hope and rebirth. The songbirds sang again, and the sun was shining on the sparkling blue sky. A beautiful and peaceful place, a perfect trap. She could loss in this mirage so easily, forgetting the destruction of the outside world. But the demons would never forget her desires, her weaknesses or her regrets, so she shouldn't either. That was her only shield against them.  
  
A sound of a splash. Solona turned to the source of the noise. An ash-blonde boy played stone skipping, dropping the pebbles away angrily, grunted with every toss. Solona surveyed the boy, and her legs unwittingly took the steps toward him. He was so calmingly and disturbingly familiar, his movements, his gestures, his scent, sea biscuit and saffron... it can't be... The boy looked at her with those hazel eyes... _it can't be..._  
  
"Hello." he greeted her in his thin, boyish voice. Solona measured the boy suspiciously, trying to figure out how this illusion tried to break her mind.  
  
"Who are you, pretty lady?" he asked.  
  
"I'm a Grey Warden," she answered. The boy's eyes became big and his mouth slackened by his astonishment. "What are you doing here?" she asked.  
  
"I'm playing stone skipping. And I'm hiding," he answered as dropped another pebble into the water. "The Arl wants to give me to the Chantry. They will train me a templar."  
  
"Your mother should be very proud, templars are fine men," Solona lied. Templars were prison guards, who could abuse mages anytime they wanted. She knew that the ones like Greagoir or Cullen are the rare exceptions. She still tried to figure out what is this mind game and what its purpose.  
  
The boy dropped another stone into the stream with all the strength of his anger, sending water drops on their clothes. "I don't have a mother. I'm just a tolerated bastard, sleeping in the kennels, at least dogs are warm and nice." he disgruntled. "And Lady Isolde hates me. She hates me and wants to send me away. And I hate her. I won't be a templar, I run away instead." The boy's tears began to trickle down his face, he gripped his last stone in his hand, squeezed it as much as he could to swallow down his urge to cry. "I could be a Grey Warden. I could be your squire, my lady." Solona, despite her best consideration, crouched to the little boy, smoothing her hand down on his arm gingerly.  
  
"The Arl is a good man and I'm sure he wants the best for you." She tried to comfort him "Believe me, it's not better being a Grey Warden than being a templar. And being a templar is better than being a street urchin. You should go back to Redcliffe. A handsome boy like you will be a very good templar." The boy raised his so familiar hazel eyes on Solona, who wiped his watery cheeks clean. The boy smiled at her uncertainly and released that pebble from his hand, letting it fall to the ground.  
  
"Do you think?" he inquired. Solona responded his smile and nodded reassuringly.  
  
"The songs of the bards are made about the dauntless and handsome boys like you. I'm sure that I will hear the tales of the brave and fair Ser..."  
  
"...Alistair." the boy cut her. "I'm Alistair, the stable boy of Redcliffe Castle." The glade became blurry around Solona and she felt very weak. The figure of the boy slowly dissolved with the place and Solona woke up with a sharply sucked breath in Redcliffe Castle.  
  
She frowned and looked confused at Wynne who ceased the spell of a formatting lightning globe, disappearing in her hands, with a relieved sigh that she returned safe and sound.  
  
"What did you see, my child?" Wynne inquired, but Solona just shook her head. And looked into the void trying to interpret her dream, but it didn't make sense, any of it. It wasn't frightening or even disturbing. She didn't hear the alluring of the demons. It was like she walked in a picture, a fragment of the past.  
  
"I don't know." she answered.

* * *

The next day she waited for the Arl, Bann Teagan and Alistair for a strategy meeting at the library. She leafed through the book in her hand for the seventh time, trying to distract her thoughts from her last visit in the Fade, but it didn't release her, making her linger on it for eternal hours. She tried to figure out what she had seen there, what kind of mind games now the demons were playing with her now.  
  
"I have never thought that the geography of Ferelden is so interesting." She heard the jovial voice from behind. Solona turned to the voice and Bann Teagan kissed her hand with a suave smile on his face. "You look captivating today, Lady Amell. Your refreshing beauty brightens these bothersome days."  
  
Solona took back the book on the shelves, giggled coyly on the compliment "You are too kind, Bann Teagan."  
  
"I really envy the man who can own your heart." Solona released a sarcastic chuckle, smoothing her finger up and down the spine of the book.  
  
"Believe me, having my heart is rather a curse than a gift." her voice was bitterer than she intended, touching her lips unwittingly.  
  
"I highly doubt." he chuckled. Solona heard the uncomfortable shifting behind, the echo of the uncertain steps toward her. "May I ask, does someone own the privilege?" Solona's fingers still trailed on the golden letters of the book spine, rewriting them with it.  
  
_I care for you._ He shouldn't. And she should get this impossible thing out of her mind. For both of their sake.  
  
The creaking of the opening door hushed her thoughts away. She heard the knocking of boots on the stone floor and felt that unmistakable scent, wrenching her heart, clutching her stomach.  
  
"Lady Amell, Teagan. I got news." said the Arl and beckoned to his desk, where the map of Ferelden lied unwrapped. Solona went to the desk, stealing some glances on Alistair, but as soon as their eyes met she turned her face away. “A raven arrived this morning. My scouts found a Dalish clan. Here." and he pointed his finger to a deep green area on the map. Solona read the letters, 'Brecilian Forest'. "But I must warn you, the Dalish won't be friendly. And I got disturbing news from the area. Werewolves. They killed three of our men." Solona snapped her eyes to Eamon.  
  
"And Orzammar? The dwarves?" she asked.  
  
"The mountain paths are still unpassable. The latest news we have, they closed the gates of the thaig for some reason," he answered. "I suggest approaching the elves, however, this clan is more anti-human than usual. They had many..." he cleared his throat. “... unpleasant encounters with our kind."  
  
"I speak Elvish quite well and I'm familiar with Dalish culture." she replied.  
  
"Still, you are a human, a ' _shem_ ' with their term. You should be cautious, we have enough problem with the Blight and the civil war." Solona registered it with a nod. "Meanwhile, I'll travel to Denerim and prepare the Landsmeet. I try to convince the nobles to stand beside Alistair."  
  
"I still don't have a word in this question?" Alistair chimed in, disgruntled sulkily.  
  
"You are the last of the Theirins, Alistair. The rightful heir to the throne. We must ensure the continuity of the inheritance" Eamon tried to explain for the thousandth time that week. They milled around one spot about this for days now. The Arl wanted Alistair on the throne, and he protested. They wasted hours every day with this never-ending and utterly useless debate.  
  
"Arl Eamon," Solona cut them before they escalate this so trite debate again "the Blight is our top priority."  
  
"But we can't end the Blight without unity, Lady Amell." Solona pursed her lips and sighed resentfully. She hated political games, but deep in her heart knew she needed them to win.  
  
"I'll prepare my party and we depart at sunrise. I'll let you know if we succeeded." She closed the meeting. The Arl nodded and wrapped the map on the table and left with Bann Teagan leaving her and Alistair alone.  
  
They just stood there alone, trying to avoid each other's sight in that awkward and unpleasant silence, not sure what to say or how to say. Solona went to the window and watched the distant and busy market place. It was surprising how fast the life returned to Redcliffe, or, at least, the pretense of it. It was funny how people stuck to their usual things to keep the illusion of peace.  
  
"Prepare for the departure," she ordered. Alistair didn't respond but she heard the sound of her boots receding from her. She wanted to stop him, telling him things, feeling his lips on hers once again. Every sound of steps was like thousands of needles on her skin.  
  
"Solona," she heard. "Would you accompany me for a quick trip?" he asked. "I'd like to visit a place nearby."  
  
"Alistair we, shouldn't..."  
  
"Just a couple of hours." he insisted. "And I won't say or do anything embarrassing. I just want you to show something." She should say no. She should stay in the castle, keeping the distance, but something in her screamed, protested to not. So she reluctantly nodded.

* * *

They roamed the snowy and frozen meadows and roads of the Hinterlands, what was gray and dead. The trees were leafless and black, the earth muddy and tainted with blood and ash. Only the crows and the rotting corpse of the dead animals left beside the roads. No matter how often she saw this scene, she could never get used to this, to the smell and image of death and destruction. It still wrenched her stomach, made her sick and the bile rose in her throat.  
  
They went off the main road on a narrow path into the forest. It was dead silent. No birds tweeted, no wolves howled, the only sound was the gurgling of the nearby stream and the cracking of the forest litter under their feet. It was cold and dead. Solona pulled the fur-collared cloak on her closer to not feel the chilly wind, but the strong gust leaped under her coat, shivering her body with icy shudders. In the Circle, there were no seasons. There was no snow, no colorful leaves of the fall, not the smooth caress of the sunshine, just stone walls and tiny windows to the outside world, always with the same view.  
  
Alistair noticed her trembling and without a word put his own cloak on her. She dipped her nose into the wolf pelt collar and inhaled that scent the scent of it, torturing herself with it.

_Sea biscuit and saffron._ The scent of a long lost home where once som many lives before she belonged. A small cottage near Starkhaven with terracotta tiles, blue framed windows and doors and white walls one of them covered with ivy.  
  
"Here we are," he said as the entered to a small glade. Solona faltered for a moment. It was the glade from her dream with the running stream. The earth was frozen and hard, the branches of the trees covered with ice and icicles hung down of it like crystal stalactites, making the whole place sparkling in the winter brightness.  
  
Alistair went to the bank of the stream, took some pebbles and threw into the water, playing stone skipping. Solona watched his movement, the same gestures of the young boy in her dream.  
  
"This was my favorite hiding place when I was young." he said lastly between two tosses.  
  
"Everybody needs one. Mine was the astrarium of the Circle." Solona answered as she surveyed the swing of his arm and that little grimace at the corner of his eyes when the pebble left his hand.  
  
"The last time I came here was the day before they took me away to the monastery for my templar training. I remember I felt so furious and betrayed and I so hated everybody." He was with his back to her, not looking at her, just tossing the pebbles into the stream. "You know, I had the strangest dream yesterday. I relived that day, the only difference was that you were there, speaking to me, comforting me." Solona snapped her head and lost her balance , but at the last moment, she managed to not collapse. _It can't be..._  
  
"Many things made sense after I woke up." He threw the last stone away as strong as he could, making it splash the water everywhere and sank to the bottom instantly. He turned to her. "You are a dreamer, Solona and you walked in my dream." She stood there breathlessly, unable to say anything.  
  
"How do you...?" she muttered after a few minutes of silence. Alistair was calm, too calm and for an insane moment, she believed that only her mind plays with her and she bit her lower lip to make sure that she is awake.  
  
"Maybe I'm not a templar, but I got the training. I learned about every ability of mages, even the rarest one." He took some steps toward her. "Also, Wynne told me this morning. You are more sensible to the demons than the normal mages, that's why you fainted in Haven, that's why your visions about the Archdemon never ceased, that’s why you startle from a nightmare every fucking night." His speech became more and more heated, almost became a yell by every word. "And it seems I was the only one who was unaware of it."  
  
"That's not true." her voice was weak and annihilated, filled with deep shame.  
  
"You told it to Zevran." he yelled, his thundering voice echoed in the whole forest.  
  
"It's not that what you think," she replied.  
  
"Then what?" he yelled at her.  
  
"I just couldn't tell you." she was in a trap and tried to escape like a little bird from the net, who entangling into it more and more.  
  
"Why? Because I'm so fucking dumb I wouldn't understand???"  
  
"Because I care for you." she cried out to the stillness of the forest, leaving nothing just the echo of the emptiness these words left behind. "The demons are tempting me, telling me things when I'm awake, giving me terrible visions when I sleep. They trapped me, sieging my mind and I cannot escape. I'm losing my sanity and when it will happen I don't want to hurt you." The urge of crying shook her whole body. She embraced herself and with a wailing she collapsed on her knees. Alistair rushed to her, kneeled and wrapped his arms around her, exhaling a kiss on her temple.  
  
"You won't." he whispered to her skin.  
  
"You saw me at Haven." She buried her face into his shoulder, soaking with his jacket with her tears. Alistair gently propped her chin and wiped the water from her face with his thumb.  
  
"I've already told you what I saw at Haven. What you see is the illusion of the demons, what they want you to see." She shook her head.  
  
"I feel the rage growing inside me, strain me from inside. I want to hurt people without reason. I wanted to hurt you at Haven. And I don’t want to do it when I’ll become lost." Alistair gently kissed her lips, tentatively, just caressed his to hers.  
  
"You won't. I'll help you to get through this." She shook her head resignedly,  
  
"Could you kill me if I become an abomination?" she asked.  
  
"But you won't." he insisted.  
  
"Could you?" Alistair took a sharp breath holding it inside for a couple of moments and releasing it with a trembling sigh.  
  
"No." Solona nodded. That's what she thought so.  
  
She pressed her lips desperately to his, kissed him fevered, trailing her tongue into his mouth like this was her last kiss in this damned world until there was no air in her lungs just the desire for more. When they departed, she peeled herself out from his arms and stood up. Every motion was like a cutting blade on her skin, like somebody tearing parts out from her.  
  
"Then you can't help me." and she walked away, feeling that every step made deep cracks on her soul.


	19. Into the Wilds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party arrives to the cursed Brecilian Forest to gain the support of the Dalish. But Solona feels the presence of the demons around her more than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was originally a longer piece, but eventually I found it better to cut it into two chapters.

Solona swept her eyes through the valley lying underneath her feet. The ivory ruins darted to the sky among the endless sea of deep green trees. The Brecilian Forest lived its cursed life while everything was dead around it. It was like a piece of summer in the uncompromising, bone-shaking Fereldan winter. They wandered almost two weeks in the icy desolation seeing everywhere the sign of darkspawn. And their party was like gloomy mourners marching to the void, more than like invincible warriors who meant to defeat the Blight.  
  
She listened to the howling of the wolves what outvoiced even the roaring winds what always tried to tear her fur-trimmed cloak from her. And even through the thick coat, she felt the tingling vibration of the Fade on her skin, felt the demons crashing to the Veil to pass through it. She felt one exhaling fiery breath on her neck like it stood just behind her.  
  
_Are you afraid of the dark forest, little girl?_ She heard the voice what she didn't since they left that damned temple at Haven. She heard her own voice, frightening her to death, making her legs rooted by dismay.  
  
"The Veil is paper thin here," Wynne stated in her soft voice as approached her. "Maybe even broken." Solona took a deep breath and released an erratic sigh trying to swallow the dread what wanted to overwhelm her. She nodded a trembling one, what slowly spread to her whole body. She was so glad that big coat hid her shaking legs, her fear of the wilds what waited for her to enter.  
  
"Solona, my child, you don't have to..." She did have to. In that very moment, she couldn't do something she failed. And failure was even more hated than weakness.  
  
_Solona Amell never breaks._ She could cry, she could show weakness or let the others think she was weak, but she would die before anybody could break her.  
  
She took off her wadded gloves, stretched her fingers and ignited a tiny flame. She stared the fluttering little life in her hand what pulsated in sync with her own rapid heartbeat, let the warmth spread in her, washing away that primal terror, finding a moment of peace in herself.  
  
_Do you think the fire can protect you from me? From yourself?_ She twitched by hearing her own voice whispering into her ears in so inhuman tone that only a mad beast can. The bile rose in her throat again and the spasm in her stomach returned, pulling her back into the painful reality.  
  
"Solona..." Wynne called her, smoothing her hand down her trembling back, but she just gazed the mesmerizing dance of the flames in her hand and wished if only she could have frozen in time or she could just run away from her duties, from her demons the rest in his arms for a peaceful moments under the starry night sky and sleep without dream. It was surprising that in desperate time how simple things one desired.  
  
"You shouldn't have told him," she said, at last, taking a short glance on Alistair from behind the benevolent concealment of her hood. There wasn't blame in her or resentment, just agonizing emptiness.  
  
"He is the only Grey Warden beside you in Ferelden. He has every right-" She clenched her fingers into a tight fist, blowing out the little life in her hand and shot a sharp glare on Wynne as walked away. She didn't need a lecture or commiseration. Her pride what has only left for her. Everything else what she ever had or loved was taken from her and she was too afraid to step into the unknown, just lingered between two existence as easy prey for the demons. __

* * *

The pass led to the valley was sloppy, only an ill-fated move was enough to fell from the narrow passage to the sharp rocks. The air was warm and humid, and they soon could get rid of those heavy coats. As they descended Solona's steps became more and more uncertain by the slippery ground and the tingling feeling on her skin. She felt the demons presence behind her, it was like a shadow what followed her everywhere never giving her a moment of peace.  
  
"You and Alistair are quite taciturn since we left Redcliffe," Zevran said as grabbed her arm, preventing to lapse down on the rocks underneath them. "Storm is the lover's nest?" he asked provocatively with a wide smirk on his face. Solona took a glare on him but he just burst out in an amused laughter.  
  
"It shouldn't concern you." She answered as tried to keep her balance walking through the strait crag, trying to find a purchase on the rock wall behind her, and staring the deep void underneath her with sharp stalagmites under her and the thorny leaves of the pine trees. Solona watched the pebbles falling down into the gaping depth under her and wondered how many adventurers met fate trying to reach to these cursed wilds.  
  
Zevran chuckled, as underset his arm on her abdomen to keep her on the narrow path. "Rest is assured, my dear Warden, I'm only here for the juicy gossips." Solona frowned to him as managed to leap to a wide cliff and then to another, more safety piece of passage. Zevran closely followed her, and then the others until everybody managed to survive this deadly section.  
  
"Is our arrangement still alive?" she inquired as noticed smoke puffing up to the ash-gray sky. It wasn't really a question, just a validation that she still needs his service.  
  
"The thing is, my dearest Solona, that I came to like you. It complicates things," he answered as they reached the bottom of the valley and in the vaporous fog two slender figures showed up. She hummed and the side of her lips turned to a sarcastic smirk as turned to the elf.  
  
"Sympathy is a dangerous concept in your profession, assassin." He guffawed so loud that the whole forest echoed it, but there was nothing happy or amused in it. It sounded grotesque as echoed back to them, filled with pain and grief.  
  
"Believe me, I learned this lesson very well," he replied, as swept the tears away caused by his laughter. Solona swept her incredulous eyes on the elf, running them on the line of his tattoo framed his face.  
  
"You kill me if the time comes, and you'll be free. From my service and from the threat of the Crows. You fulfill the contract and can go back to Antiva and your employers will be satisfied. Let's just stick to the business." she tried to force some indifference on her voice, concealing terrified she really was.  
  
"Ahh, you are so pretty when you are serious, my dear Warden, but the thing is my contract was about killing all the remained Wardens in Ferelden." And he hinted backward. Solona looked behind watching Alistair as rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, his eyes scanning the horizon always ready for the coming danger.  
  
_Do you think he really needs you? That he cares for you? He is the future king. You are just a sad and pathetic excuse of a mage._ She twitched by her own twisted voice whispering to her ears and drew her glance back to the figures before her blurred by the heavy and vaporous mist of the forest.  
  
"He must live." she declared. "You can kill me to fulfill Loghain's contract and be free but _Alistair must live,_ " it sounded so desperate like a pleading prayer of condemned before the execution, a last wish before the rope tightens around the neck. It could be easier to say she wanted this for the sake of Ferelden, to ensure stopping the Blight and the future of the throne as Arl Eamon wanted, but the truth was much simpler, much frightening, and much selfish.  
  
Zevran just hummed as gazed her with inquiring eyes, trying to see through her. "You know, Solona, you are one of a kind," he said lastly as the figures became clear, Dalish hunters, pointing their arrows right to her heart.  
  
"That's far enough, shem!" One of them yelled. Solona faltered, hearing the sounds of readying weapons behind her. She took her staff and put down the ground as the gesture of peace. Her hands over her head showing she is harmless, taking a few uncertain steps to the elves but as they tensed the string of their bows more she stopped.  
  
"Andaran atish'an." she greeted them, trying to form elven words properly. "We came with peace seeking the help of the Dalish against the Blight." And she hinted the others to stand down with the weapons.  
  
"Why should we bother with the problems of the shems? Why should we bother with the darkspawn?" the hunter surveyed them filled with intimidation.  
  
"The Blight threatens humans, dwarves, just as elves." She took one more uncertain step toward the elves whose bow tensed to the breaking point. "We are no harm to you. I'm a Grey Warden and we just want to speak with the Keeper." A female elf lowered her weapon and hinted the others to do the same.  
  
"All right, you and the other Warden can come with me, the others stay." The elf huntress said. Solona's mouth slackened in confusion a bit as the female elf hinted toward Alistair, but she just chuckled. "The Arl isn’t the only one who has scouts, shem." Solona looked at Alistair then the others.  
  
"Ma nuvenin, the huntress," and she and Alistair followed the Dalish.

* * *

As they entered she felt the icy glares on her neck. Solona stole some glances on their tattooed faces but as her eyes met the contempt ones of the elves she soon fixated her glance on the ground. Something ominous fell on the camp filled with terror and she felt that she walked into a hornet's nest and only a single motion would be enough to unleash chaos.  
  
"Is it just me or the air of the forest really became cooler as we entered?" Alistair asked as swept his eyes through the camp. Solona hummed as surveyed the Keeper and the First waiting for them.  
  
"The Arl said they are more anti-human than the other clans," she replied. "It is a miracle they did not shoot us by sight."  
  
"Well that's reassuring," he snorted. "We can agree on that you should be the one who speaks." Solona nodded a trembling one with a sigh. She felt the forest around her, like it, breathed, pulsated and watched her. Like the very spirit of this place listened to her every heartbeat waiting for her to make an ill-fated move and swoop down on her soul. Like she walked in the very Fade itself, demons eager to strike on her.  
  
_Are you afraid of the dark forest, little girl?_ She heard her own voice asking her tauntingly exhaling fiery breath on her neck. She twitched and unwittingly reached out for Alistair's hand. He didn't pull his away just took a surprised glance on her and a moment later entwined his fingers around hers, giving support without words and this single gesture made the whispers silent.  
  
"Andaran athis'an, Keeper." Solona greeted the elf leader with a slight bow as they reached them. "I am Solona, my companion is Alistair" her fellow Warden also bowed a little" We are Grey Wardens seeking your help against the Blight." The Keeper looked through her with his stern glance.  
  
"Shems who have manners." he hummed. "I'm Zathrian, the Keeper of this clan and I know who you are, but sadly I can't help you. We have our own problems, Warden." Solona bit her lower lips tried to ignore the more and more chocking atmosphere of the forest around her.  
  
"Keeper, the Grey Wardens has treaties with the Dalish-" she tried to convince him.  
  
"You try to invoke a claim on treaties made long and distant centuries ago? And what your kind did for my People to ask such favors?" the elf cut her. Solona felt her magic surging in her licking her fingertips, want to break free from her.  
  
_Why don't you just kill him, making an example? Burn him alive and the others will join by the fear or if not the will perish by your rage._ Solona tightened her fingers around Alistair's, tried to hush away these whispers, the increasing rage in her.  
  
"Keeper..." she tried again, but the elf stopped her with a sharp gesture.  
  
"My decision is final, Warden. The Dalish won't participate in the war of the shems," he declared imperatively.  
  
"The Blight threatens us all," Alistair burst out. "Do you think these wilds will protect you from the darkspawn?"  
  
"The spirit of this forest protects my kind for centuries now and strikes on our enemies, Warden." the Keeper said his voice intimidation. Alistair's other hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, but before he could do anything Solona paralyzed it.  
  
_If you are not capable of doing the job then let him do it. Maybe he has the gut for what you haven't._ She twitched again so hard that her magic vanished, but this was enough to change her fellows Warden mind, or he was just too confused to do anything, judging by his eyes fixed on her.  
  
"I can only offer a shelter and food for you and your companions this night, Warden," Zathrian said lastly. Solona pursed her eyes and nodded resentfully.  
  
"Ma serranas, Keeper." She replied with a bow and left the elf there and they walked to the side of the camp.  
  
"Well, that went well..." Alistair stated stoically as they stopped.  
  
"We still have a day to earn their support." She replied just realizing that she still held his hand and this revelation made her voice trail off. She watched their fingers tangled together, feeling the heat flushes her cheeks. She withdrew hers in her frightening embarrassment and avoided his glance, clearing her throat trying to force some tranquility and confidence on herself. "Scout the area with Zevran, Leliana, and Sten. Something isn't right here. Something dark is lurking in these wilds." Alistair acknowledged her words.  
  
"We should leave the elves and concentrate on the dwarves. We are running out of time here, Solona," he suggested, but she just shook her head thoughtfully.  
  
"The mountain paths are still unpassable and we do not know why they closed the gates. And you and I both know we need every help in Ferelden against the Archdemon. We need the Dalish." Alistair sighed a heavy one, taking his hand on her shoulder protectively, brushed it down her arms.  
  
"I see this place makes your skin crawl, just as mine, Solona. We should leave this forest and find another clan." He said gingerly as closed the distance between them, but she took a step backward in that very moment confusing him again. Her eyes were on the ground. She did not want to listen to him  
  
"Tell Wynne and Morrigan that I need them. I saw many injured people. We need to earn their trust any way we can." She commanded, trying to avoid the answer. Since Redcliffe there was no need to hide how weak she was against the demons and yet, her pride did not allow it.  
  
Alistair took a step toward her trying to comfort her, but she just turned away from him. "Do as I said," she commanded. There was no movement for a couple of moments behind her, just agonizing stillness but eventually she heard the receding step from her and as they became more and more silent she deepened her teeth into the flesh of her lips until she felt the coppery taste of her own blood.  
  
_What a cute little soldier-boy. I will kill him a very delicate way._ She heard her own voice whispering poisonous words into her ears. She felt its presence behind her, the heat on her skin and she felt the primal fear rising in her as well as the rage and in that very moment, the two emotions clashed in her spreading burning pain in her like there was acid flowing in them instead of blood.  
  
"Over my dead body." she threatened the demon but it just chuckled the most diabolic way she could imagine increasing the anger in her and for the first time she did not fear them. She wouldn't let them hurt him.  
  
_In your body, little girl._ The answer came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish phrases:
> 
> Andaran atish’an - Enter this place in peace. A formal elven greeting. Literally: "I dwell in this place, a place of peace."  
> Ma nuvenin - As you wish  
> Ma serannas - My thanks (Thank you).
> 
> Source: Dragon Age Wiki


	20. Vir Atish'an and Tanadhal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona and the party try to earn the trust of the Dalish and reveal the dark secret of the clan, while the demons siege her mind constantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Vir Atish'an, the Way of Peace is the phylosophy of the elven goddess Sylaise, the Heartkeeper, followed by the ones who learn the arts of the healer and the mender. 
> 
> The Vir Tanadhal, The Way of Three Trees (the path of the elven goddess Andruil, the Great Huntress, the sister of Sylaise), appears to be the philosophical opposite of the Vir Atish'an, followed by the ones who learn the art of the hunter (basically it is the path of violence). It has three part:  
> 
> 
> * Vir Assan, the Way of the Arrow: fly straight and do not waver.  
> 
> * Vir Bor'assan, the Way of the Bow: bend but never break.  
> 
> * Vir Adahlen, the Way of the Forest: together we are stronger than the one.

Solona stretched her fingers and cautiously approached the halla. She spoke to it softly in Elvish and the frightened animal soon let her to touch. She gently smoothed her palm down its forehead and let her magic flow into the noble beast. The warm brown eyes of the halla radiated calamity and trust in her as she brushed  her hand on the silver fur, still speaking to it like the way she was taught at her bestiary lessons in the Circle. She felt her caressing magic spread, as it soothed the halla, she felt the deep and rhythmic breathing and heartbeat and this strangely comforted way making an honest and tender smile curving on her lips, the first since Maker knows when.  
  
The elven tender, Elora watched her skilled movements with true amazement in her eyes. "You have the gift of Sylaise, shem, the Vir Atish'an." she stated in gentle voice.  
  
Solona looked at the elf questioningly "The Way of Peace?"  
  
"It is said that the sing of Sylaise could calm down even the most ferocious beast." she explained. "The ones who are following her path are talented in healing and mending things."  
  
_Healing and mending things._ She heard her own twisted voice snorting sarcastically. _How many deaths sit on your soul? How many times you wanted to hurt people, to destroy everything around you?_  
  
She shuddered by the cruel whisper in her ears. It broke her spell and she felt that for a moment her tremors spread to the halla and she withdrew her hand from its forehead. And as she looked into the beast's warm brown doe-eyes reflecting her own fear and dismay. She hold her breath for moments just staring the animal, her pale face turning into chalk-white and the bile rising in her throat.  
  
"Let me see her," Elora said as made herself room beside Solona and she could just only hope that the elf didn't recognize her terror. The tender hummed as ran her hand through the halla's silver fur. "It appears she is safe and sound, but worried about her mate. He is bitten on his leg." She said and Solona raised her eyes to her. The wisdom of the Dalish was far beyond the realm of knowledge her Circle could provide. And she craved for knowledge like a thirsty man in the desert for water. Anything to make her understand what is happening to her.  
  
"How do you know that?" she asked stroking her hand down the beast's forehead and running her eyes through the beautifully cambered antlers. She found these animals truly fascinating with their gracious figure and tender and warm eyes.  
  
"I have the gift of the Mother of Hallas, Ghilan'nain. They speak to me and I understand them." the elf woman explained. If she harbored any bad feeling toward her she did not show. She spoke to Solona like she was her apprentice, with tenderness and understanding, and she felt herself for a moment like she sat at her bestiary lesson in the Circle listening to the old enchanter speaking. She could swear that even felt that retching stink of that fluid in what they conserved the organs of the beast they learned about.  
  
_The little girl misses her home._ The demon whispered mockingly into her ears. _Why didn't you burn it down to ashes after what those blood mages had done? Because you are weak to do what is necessary. You think you are the best of the bests, but the ugly truth is that you are just the shadow what you are meant to be._  
  
Solona shuddered again sending her tremors to the halla. Even her thoughts weren't hers anymore. The demons corrupted everything and turned it against her. And she wondered that was there anything in her what was untouched.  
  
_I care for you._ His voice broke through the constant and frightening whispers of the demons, washing them away, giving a moment of peace her. Her fingers wandered on her lips brushing through it, lingering on that last desperate kiss they shared and that blunt sweet agony shivered through her body she felt every time thinking about him.  
  
"Solona, my child, could you help me with the injured ones?" she heard Wynne's silky voice from behind, feeling a soft hand touching on her shoulder, pulling her back from her bittersweet memory.  
  
She excused herself and followed the old mage to the healing tent where she and Morrigan did everything to give these elves some relief, but nothing eased their anguish. Some kind of animalistic scent enveloped the place. The odor of musk and wet fur mixed that unmistakable smell of crushed elfroot. It was worse than a usual infirmary, had the atmosphere of dread looming upon them, something dark and unholy.  
  
"Try to heal this man," Wynne ordered.  
  
Solona took her hand on the wounded elf and began to flow her energies, but nothing happened, her energies vanished like they were eaten up by something dark. She still felt the infection spreading and eating him from inside, transforming him into something new, something cursed. As she ceased her spell took a glance on the old mage frowning her eyebrows in confusion.  
  
"Something incurable infected them. Something like the Blight." Wynne explained her theory but Solona shook her head thoughtfully.  
  
"I don't feel the taint in them," she answered. "This is something else."  
  
" _Lycanthropy_ ," Morrigan answered in a stoic voice as crushed the elfroot in the mortar. Solona snapped her head to the witch and looked into her certainty filled golden eyes.  
  
"It is only a myth, Morrigan," Wynne said in gentle voice, but who knew the old mage felt the invisible scornful nuance in it.  
  
"Maybe the limited knowledge of the Circle considers it as a myth but still, tis is lycanthropy." she riposted with a disgusted snort. "And we won't able to heal it. Tis is made by a curse only destroying the source can end it."  
  
Solona hummed as ran her healing hands through the wailing man once again but her magic was useless once again. Nothing eased the burning infection in the elf and she felt his tissues morphing she saw as the veins on his arm became swollen and dark blue if not black and he emanated sickening scent. The Dalish had the smell of the rain-soaked forest and the fur of halla, but it was like the odor of the freshly tanned wolf pelt.  
  
Suddenly he grabbed her hands and yanked her to himself. "Kill me, shem!" he rattled. "Kill me before I turn."  
  
"Into what?" she asked, trying to escape from his grip, but he kept his fingers tightened around her wrist desperately, leaving red marks and ache behind.  
  
"To a... to a..." he tried to say something, but the words didn't come to his mouth. Something animalistic whirled in his eyes, something bestial. It wasn't human anymore; he had the eyes of a wolf.  
  
"Warden Amell!" The Keeper's strict voice shook them and the elf released her hands. "Walk with me." It wasn't a request but a command.  
  
Solona nodded obediently and followed the old elf until they left the camp and it vanished in the vaporous mist of the wild. They walked on the narrow path what followed the running stream, and by the road the elven vigil lamps gave direction with their lyrium blue light.  
  
The forest was ominously calm and peaceful. She listened the song of the birds, the troat of the hallas and the rushing of a waterfall in the distance. It was like peace before the storm, the disturbing stillness before the chaos unleash. And the rigor washed through her body leaving cold sweat behind making her skin crawl.  
  
Zathrian was silent, taking his deliberate steps on the cracking undergrowth until they reached a small clearing, He stopped there and Solona a few steps behind him, like the Dalish customs, demanded. He didn't turn to her, just watched a particular spot on the ground. It was strange. The ground was covered with lively green grass everywhere, except that hole which was black like the darkest night or like the spilled darkspawn blood. And she felt the Fade around her like she walked in the very in it, invisible souls creeping around her, rustling tragedies of the bygone eras into her ears. The trees, the rocks everything witnessed unimaginable horrors here, the demons crashed to the Veil to feast over the pain.  
  
_Are you afraid of the dark forest, little girl?_ The demon mocked her and she winced because she knew she does. She was frightened to death by the ghosts of this place and that violence what could have awakened here waiting for her to strike.  
  
"You are the first shem who surprised me for a very long time, Warden, if not ever." he began after a long period of silence, still not turning to her. "You speak Elvish better than most of my clan and you showed respect toward our customs."  
  
"Ma serranas, Keeper," Solona replied in her most humble voice casting her eyes down coyly.  
  
"And I find myself in that very inconvenient situation that I must ask your assistance." He continued, now facing to her. "My clan is suffering from the curse of the werewolves. They spread their disease among us and now who was bitten is turning to a werewolf, infecting the others."  
  
"So Morrigan was right, it is really lycanthropy." She stated, not for the Keeper but for herself.  
  
"Indeed," he answered. "It is a curse, what will live until the source lives." Solona crossed her arms before her chest measuring the old elf.  
  
"And what do you want from us, exactly?" she asked keeping the eye contact with Zathrian, looking into deeply in his deep brown eyes.  
  
"I need you to kill a legendary beast, Whiterfang and cut out its heart. Slay it and you'll get the Dalish to fight in this war of yours." He gave her offer. The side of her mouth curved into a light smirk, still not looking away from the old elf still measuring him in silence. "You have my word, Warden." And he stretched his arms to her as a sanction. Solona grabbed his hand and the pact was done.

* * *

As she returned to the camp, Alistair waited for her. He was without his armor, in a simple shirt and trousers cleaning his sword with a cloth, drawing the attention on the Dalish chits. Solona heard their tinkling snickers as they took stolen glances on him or whispered silly things into each other ears.  
  
She watched as he maintained his weapon, the deliberate moves and as his hazel eyes followed the way of his hand. And for a moment it was like even the forest became brighter, like the rays of the sun finally found their way through the thick shield of ash gray clouds lighting the place stainwise, conjuring everything into sparkling may green. It was a moment when she wished if only time could freeze.  
  
She sat beside him, taking her hand on the slight cut on his forearm, healing him. As his magic flowed into him she felt his shivering under her touch and this made goosebumps on her skin and the heat spread in her chest and her face. He did not look at her, but she saw the invisible break in his fluent motion what nobody else could notice just the one who knew him the way she did.  
  
"Any news?" She asked concentrating on her spell.  
  
"Well, besides walking trees and skeletons, a mad hermit and ferocious animals, this place is fairly romantic, don't you think?" He snorted as swept the piece of leather along the steel blade once again. "Oh, and I almost forgot the talking wolves."  And with a deliberate motion, he took the sword back to its case. She nodded still staring her healing hands, like looking at him would be the most disturbing thing in this world.  
  
"I know. Werewolves. Prepare yourself, tomorrow we are going on a wolf hunt." And she ceased the spell and stood up, but before she could walk away Alistair grabbed her hand.  
  
"Is that all?" he asked. "Shouldn't you initiate me more?"  
  
"What do you want to know?" She snapped. She wanted to escape from his nearness. It was too unsettlingly comforting and disturbing. He made the demons silent and he was the thing with they could hurt her the most. He was her greatest strength and weakness. He was the only thing what was still untouched in her.  
  
"Solona, this place is cursed, and I don't have to be a mage to tell that the Veil is broken here." She knew what he wanted and Maker knows her soul she wanted to leave this place behind, not hearing the demons alluring her, harassing her but at this point, they desperately needed the elves and she desperately had to prove it to herself that she is the mage she once was, invincible and prideful.  
  
And?" she asked angrily.  
  
"I'm just worried about you. I see the fear in your eyes, your legs shakings." Hmm, the soldier-boy is smarter than he looks like. Interesting. She heard her own twisted voice and despite her every effort she twitched. Alistair gently brushed his hand down her arm to comfort her making her tremors cease and for a moment she was lost in the sensation of his touch, the shivering caress of his fingertips leaving goosebumps behind.  
  
_Why don't you just let him fuck you?_ The demon's bestial voice drew her back to the reality and she sucked a sharp breath before stepped away from him. At least you would be good for something...  
  
"What’s wrong?" he asked worriedly, trying to touch her again, but she evaded it with a sharp turn on her heels.  
  
"Nothing." She heaved and ran away into the benevolent mist of the forest. And when even the silhouettes of the camp vanished behind her she stopped and leaned to the bole of an oak tree, taking the breaths deeply. She could run away, but never escape.  
  
_You don't deserve him._ She felt the fiery breath on her necks make her shudder as slipped down until her knees knocked the ground, the muddy ground soaking her trousers. _Maybe after I finally have you I will take pleasure in him. He needs your body anyway, not you._  
  
"You can have me but if you dare to touch him even with one finger I swear to everything that I will scorch the Fade, killing every spirit and demon until I find you." She threatened through her gritted teeth, but only a sarcastic snicker came as an answer what echoed back from everywhere in the forest until it became one, deafening crescendo around her.  
  
_The little girl is in love. How cute._ The breath stuck in her, just staring into the void for long seconds, her lungs screaming for air, her muscles grew taut and everything began to spin around her. It culdn't't be... She couldn't be in love.  
  
" _Leave me alone,_ " she snarled feeling the heat of the demon on her skin, the spell what wanted to break through her veins the licking flames on her fingertips demanding to cast it. She felt the rage and dismay overwhelm her, making her shake uncontrollably.  
  
_You know what I'm saying is only the painful truth._ It whispered in such cruel voice what sent a spike of agony down her spine what was like the salt burning in the painful wound.  
  
" _LEAVE ME ALONE!_ " She screamed whisking her hand before her and raging fire flared up everywhere around her, consuming everything into ash and gangrenous stump as quickly as her fastest thought swished through her mind. And she stood in the middle of it, her body trembling as heard the increasingly fading maniac laughter and sniffed that sickening stink of destruction around her until nothing left behind just pitch black ground and charred remnants.


	21. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona and the party go on a wolf hunt, but it is not clear who is the prey exactly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made this picture for the chapter  
>  __  
>   
> Thanks for the help to[Flaminea ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Flaminea/pseuds/Flaminea)for giving me the perfect [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LSvOTw8UH6s) for this chapter and for her continous support.

_The little girl walks in the woods. The Big Bad Wolf waits her to swoop._

The nursery rhyme echoed in the forest like a cruel mockery, like vultures circling waiting to feast on her. Every time she heard this song she shuddered, faltered and involuntarily looked around, gripping the shaft of her staff like she could see the demon snickering like a mad woman in her voice.  
  
She stood before the mad hermit, answering his never-ending questions, feeling her patience reaches her limits hearing the demon whispering in her ears.  
  
_Why are you always playing useless and timewasting games instead of just taking away what you have come for?_ Her nails deepened into the shaft to ease her tension.  _Look at him, how pathetic. How much time is needed  to you to end like this? He hears the spirits, just like you, he listens to them just like you. And he has nobody to love and nobody loves him, just like you._  
  
Solona closed her eyes and took the breaths deep trying to pacify the energies in her, trying to not listen to the demon but nothing eased the increasing and consuming rage in her. She so hated the Brecilian Forest and everybody who forced her to enter these cursed wilds, the demon who allured her, this hermit who wasted her time, her companions who thought she was insane and maybe they were right.  
  
"My turn." the hermit snickered amusedly by his own game. "Tell me pretty little mage girl, do you feel the calling of the blood?" _Of course, you do._ The demon answered to her. _You feel the sweetness of the unlimited power it provides. And I know you want to taste it. Just a few drops needed..._  
  
"Enough of your games, old man." She yelled like she could hush away the whispers with it. "Just give me that damned acorn."  
  
"NONONO." he grunted angrily starting to stomp up and down. "You don't play the game right. We trade a question to a question." She felt the spell demanding to be cast in her veins.  
  
"I don't care your stupid game. Give me that fucking acorn." She hissed, gripping her staff intimidatingly and the next moment the hermit summoned two rage demons ready to strike but she with a brawl and a swift and strong ice spell froze them all, and with a blast, they shattered into tiny frostbites covering the green grass with a dust of snow. She panted over the remnants hearing the dead silence around her.  
  
"Find me that fucking acorn." She yelled and heard the nervous shifting behind her as they searched the hermit's stuff and abruptly a gentle hand landed on her shoulder.  
  
"Are you all right?" Alistair asked in worried voice. Her eyes were still that the dust snow, watching her handiwork.  
  
"What do you think?" she asked back, feeling the tears gathering in her eyes. She felt that he closed the distance between them, the heat of his body, even through his dragon scale armor. He nuzzled his nose into her hair and planted a soft kiss on it. "Be strong, just a little bit more," he whispered and stepped away from her. And the tears like a flood trickled down her face, burning her like the acid, and an aching knot formatted in her throat.  
  
"We found it," Leliana exclaimed. Solona wiped dry her watery eyes, took a deep breath to steel herself, but it was harder day by day. She raised her eyes on Alistair trying to find some strength in him, what she did not have anymore.  
  
_Do you think he is really in love with you? What a naive little chit you are._ The demon snickered sarcastically into her ears, and it was like a twisting dagger in her already bleeding heart.

* * *

The elven ruins were the worst of all. It was like Haven, if not worse. Not the darkspawn they encountered or the werewolves whose waves were seemingly endless, but the ghost inhabited it, whispering her to in Dalish, showing her the fragments of the violent past, shadows ran through the corridors leaving icy breezes behind. And with every rushing phantasm made the air musky filled with repressed violence of the bygone era, making her feel uneasy and unwittingly searching for Alistair's hand.  
  
"Tell me that you see these ghosts too and I've not completely lost my mind." She whispered to him. He grabbed her hand as an answer tangling their fingers.  
  
A growl and another pack of werewolves ambushed them. Alistair drew his weapon releasing her hand and with a brawl attacked them. Leliana showered them with arrows and Zevran like a shadow got behind them slitting their throat with his daggers. Solona cast ice spells to slow them down or made them immobile while Morrigan shape shifted into a giant spider poisoning them with lethal venom and soon they defeated them. Solona healed the wounded Zevran while Alistair searched the perimeter, but everything became silent... too silent and a bad premonition flooded her. And the next moment...  
  
" _ALISTAIR!!!_ " She cried paralyzing the werewolf with a crushing prison before he could strike on him, tightening the coils of her invisible magic around it, until she felt it deepening into his skin.  
  
"I came to speak with you, Dreamwalker." It heaved chokingly as her spell narrowed around its throat and the shock made her magic disappear and the beast collapsed to the ground but she had enough composure to make it immobile again before it could do anything.  
  
"How do you know that name, beast?" She hissed as towered over the werewolf, tightening her magic once again.  
  
 "My Lady ordered me to call you like this," it answered. "She wishes to speak with you."  
  
"Your Lady?" she asked.  
  
"The Lady of the Forest. I'm Swiftrunner. Her First." She tightened the spell around the beast which began to fight for air under it.  
  
"Why should I believe you? You've just wanted to attack us." she hissed and felt some inexplicable power as the werewolf's life was in her hands and she needed only a tiny more and she could break its neck.  
  
"The Lady ordered me to tell you she knows your struggle. The Beyond talked to her and she wants to help." Solona looked into the beast wolfish eyes searched something humanity in it, some sense, some honest.  
  
_Kill it._ She heard the demon ordering her and the remained resistance in her gave enough strength or boldness and she ceased the spell making it cough deeply before it stood up. Now he towered over her threateningly and snarled. She heard Alistair drawing out his weapon, but before he could strike the Swiftrunner began to run ordering them to follow it.  
  
The Lair was protected with primeval and cursed magic, what made the feeling that she walked the Fade itself. She felt the tingling vibrations on her skin, causing goose bumps and felt her magic begin to surge in her violently invoking the rage what she could keep it at bay in a so weary way. The demon was behind her, she felt it circling her, following her every step as approached the ladylike creature before her. Its jet-black eyes measured Solona. It was unlike any spirit she has ever known or met.  
  
"Welcome, Dreamwalker." the creature greeted her. "I've been waiting for you."  
  
"You know who I am?"  
  
"The Wall is broken here, many of us comes to this world through the breaches. Some of us to feast on pain and suffer, some of us to help, and some of us was invoked by mortal forces to be bound. But we hear the others, speak with them. You roamed the Land of Dreams for a long time until an evil spirit found you, now you are in dissension, fear, confusion, and the spirit has so much power over you that your friends can't reach you to help." She heard the demon's disgusted snort.  
  
"Which spirit is you, Lady? You came here to help, or you are craving for pain?" She asked running her eyes trough the creature suspiciously.  
  
"I was invoked by a curse by one who harbors vengeance and hatred." the spirit replied.  
  
"The humans tortured the Dalish boy, and raped the girl, who when found out she is pregnant killed herself." Swiftrunner took the word from the Lady. "Keeper Zathrian came here, this cursed place what held so many sorrow and pain and summoned a powerful spirit, binding it into a great white wolf's body. Whiterfang came to be. It hunted the humans, bathed in their blood and many were cursed and became a mindless and savage creature like me.  The Lady gave us purpose and reason, peace." And the werewolf lowered on half-knee before the spirit.  
  
"So the Keeper misled us. Why am I not surprised?" Alistair snorted.  
  
"And what do you exactly want from us, spirit," Solona asked taking a step to the creature.  
  
"The crime was committed against the Dalish were dire and grave, but happened centuries ago. Now the corruption spread in the whole forest. Zathrian always denied my request to speak, he left me no choice but infect his people to end this thing."  
  
"What?" Solona exclaimed. "You want to end the curse made by violence with more violence? What are you exactly? What is your purpose? Vengeance?"  
  
"That's why I need you, Dreamwalker." the Lady replied. "Speak to Zathrian, convince him to come here and end the curse. I want peace and nothing else. There is no need to spill more blood, Dreamwalker."  
  
"Very well, spirit, I'll bring Zathrian here." she agreed. Do you want to bargain with a spirit who is bound for vengeance? Do you want to break your oath to bring its heart to the Keeper? You are not just weak and pathetic but a traitor too. And still, you resist me... The demon whispered to her ears. Solona tried to ignore its word the evil truth in them, but still for an invisible moment twitched, but when Alistair took his hand on her shoulder protectively and she knew if nobody else, he noticed her temporary vulnerability.

* * *

Solona returned with Zathrian, confronting him with the truth, the fact he lied to her. She practically begged to him to speak with the spirit and end the curse. And for some unexplainable reason, the Keeper listened to her and they returned to the lair of the werewolves together. As they entered the room echoed the intimidating snarl of the werewolves from everywhere and Solona readied her staff as looked around and saw the hatred and rage in their eyes. The rage she knew too well.  
  
"You wanted to speak with me, spirit, so here I am." he said.  
  
Swiftrunner rushed to the elf and towered over him threateningly. "You are speaking with the Lady of the Forest. Address her properly." The beast snarled.  
  
"So you have taken a name." the Keeper chuckled sarcastically. "And gave a name to your pets."  
  
"They gave me the name as well as for themselves." the Lady riposted. "They follow me because I remind them who they are."  
  
"They are no better than their ancestors," Zathrian yelled. "Wild savages, the only difference that now they look like their soul. Twisted and rotten." The room began to echo the angry snarls again and Solona readied her staff for everything and heard that the others also stood in attention. Only the lightest spark was enough to unleash the chaos on them. "They will answer for the sin of their ancestor's crime until the seas dry out and the mountains drift away like sand." he hissed.  
  
"Are you sure you want the curse to remain to serve as your eternal retribution?" the spirit asked and turned to Solona. "To bound a spirit, to create such a powerful curse needs sacrifice, Dreamwalker. Blood sacrifice."  
  
" _Blood magic?_ " Solona exclaimed. "Are you insane, Zathrian?"  
  
"Do you think vengeance is pure, Warden?" the Keeper shouted at her. "Violence brings more violence. I wanted my children to be avenged, so I bonded my life with the spirit. I served justice, an example what will stand centuries after your bones crumbled to the void.” Now he turned to Solona. "You can help me and do why you came here or get out of my way, shem. Your choice but I won't let my people as the prey of these beasts."  
  
_Why are you letting this filthy elf dictate to you? The werewolves would do the job either. I feel the rage in you wants to break through you. Let it go._  
  
" _Enough!_ " she grunted cast a fire blast making Zathrian falling through the room, smashing against the stone wall. She was so fed up. So fed up with the voices in her head, the people who always betrayed her trust, that the rage wanted to tear her apart. Everything accumulated in her and culminated in that one spell. All the pain, bitterness, and disillusionment formed into a raging power in her what was greater than any what a mortal could experience.  
  
"Do you think I care for the elves? That their lives matter something for me?" she hissed as struck a thunder whip ripping his skin open. "I killed a whole Circle of blood mages, the ones I grew up with." And she struck him again, sniffing the sweet scent of his blood, feeling the rage surging in her, washing every humanity away from her, breaking through every obstacle. "I slaughtered an entire village to get a pinch of ash to heal an Arl whose son flooded a town with undead and hundreds of innocents died."  
  
Another strike. She heard a rustle calling her name, but the pulsation of blood in hear ears suppressed every other voice. She walked to the old elf, towering over him and formatting a globe lightening in her hand. "I need allies and I really don't care it's you or the werewolves." She hissed through her teeth as watched the pathetic elf taking his hands cover his head in self-defense. She did not see a living thing anymore. She saw a subject over what she had power and this feeling intoxicated her. She could decide over life and death and this was the greatest might in the world. Not a crown on one's head or the magic flowing through her veins. This was the primal power, the source of everything else.  
  
_Kill him._ The demon ordered and she wanted, truly wanted. She felt the electric jolts of her own spell running through her muscles, demanding to strike. But before she could unleash it somebody grabbed and yanked her wrist and the globe lightning vanish from her hands and the world became sharp again.  
  
She saw Zathrian covered with blood and bruises caused by her, heard the maniac laughter echoing from everywhere, feeling the fingers tightening around her wrist in a trembling grip. She looked through the statuesque faces filled with dismay, and her eyes ran along the hand what held her and met with those hazel ones seeing the dread in them, and the breath stuck in her, muscles began to shake and her staff fell from her hand falling to the ground. The knock echoed in the dead silence of the room and she felt every single blaming glare piercing her skin. Alistair slowly released her wrist and in that very moment, their skins ceased to contact she collapsed.  
  
"I beg you Zathrian." she heaved, her voice trembling on the verge of crying. "Don't force me to kill more. I had seen enough death already. And I'm sick of it."  
  
_How pathetic._ She heard the snort.  
  
The Keeper slowly got on his feet. Now he was the one who looked down on her. She felt his eyes on her. He was the one who was covered with wounds and yet Solona was the one who was defeated. By her very own self. Now he was the one who sat judgment over her.  
  
"Will you let my people live?" he asked. She nodded. "Give me your word, Warden, if it really means something." The cadence of contempt mixed with fear in the Keeper's voice. Like she was the most wicked abomination on earth, like she wasn't a human anymore but some kind of monster who was destined to destroy everything. In the end, she became what she fought against to become.  
  
"I swear to my life that we will be no harm to your people in any way, Keeper. Ar lasa mala ma dirth, hahren." She saw the adamant spark in Zathrian's eyes fading away. He walked to the Lady, ready to die. Alistair helped Solona on her feet what barely held her. She couldn't look up and look into their eyes just stared the ground.  
  
"Dreamwalker," the spirit addressed her. "The only way to be free is to embrace change. You can't step backward or stand in the still water." Solona raised her tear-streaked eyes on the Lady. "Nothing is lost until the last spark of light flames in the darkness." And the next moment it evaporated into the void as Zathrian lifeless body collapsed to the ground. The curse was lifted. But Solona felt nothing else just shame and emptiness.

* * *

Her feet barely held her as they exited the ruins and with every step, she became weaker and weaker as she recalled in herself how bestial and merciless she was. The intoxicating feeling what ran through her as struck on the elf, again and again, twitching every time as remembered the smell of ozone her thunder whips left behind, the scent of freshly spilled blood and the temptation to shed more. Eventually, her legs sagged and she landed in the dirt. She was at the end of her strength. The demon drained every humanity from her and nothing left behind just an empty husk waiting for it to possess.  
  
"Solona, are you all right?" Alistair rushed to her helping her to stand up.  
  
"Yes." She heaved feebly. "Just give me some time alone."  
  
"But-" Alistair insisted.  
  
"I said give me some time alone," she said and pushed him away from her and began to run away, like she could escape from the demon, from the Blight, from everything, like she could run away from herself. She ran until her legs gave up and she ended up falling into a puddle staining her clothes with mud and dirt.  
  
_What a pathetic worm you are._ She heard the demon as felt it circling around her. _You have no gut to do what is right, what is necessary. You are preaching about the sinfulness of blood magic and yet you are craving to shed it._  
  
She slowly got on her feet and felt that her magic began to surge in her so violently that she thought the next moment it will strain her apart. She felt it leaving her body and felt the fire tornado formatting around her whirling around consuming everything into ash, heard the sound of the flickering flames what became a roar around her. A firestorm raged around her and she could do nothing to stop it, just stood there, squeezing her eyes and letting it rampage. She did not care that it will destroy the whole forest and every living creature in it. This place was too unholy to remain even. She felt the flames licking her skin, caressing it. The fire always gave her certainty.  
  
_You are afraid to begrime your hand. How could you save these people if you are not good enough to save yourself, to live?_ She felt the demon behind her coming closer and closer and felt that her invisible magic embraces it.  
  
_You are weak._ It whispered to her ears an in that very moment a hand landed on her shoulder. And something broke in her flooding her body with insane desperation.  
  
" _I'm not weak. I'm not weak. I'M NOT WEAK:_ " She shouted frantically as turned around and tightened the spell around it, burning it away. It dared to masquerade Alistair. Screamed in his voice and this just was oil on her insane rage and tightened it more feeling as it deepened in its skin.  
  
The hand was still on her shoulder gripping it hard and a moment later something flushed through her, washing everything away from her and she heard nothing else just deafening hoot in her ears and felt her magic fading away, only agony and emptiness remained. She screamed and collapsed to the ground. It was more agonizing than the lyrium charring her veins, than any physical pain she has ever endured. The flames vanished around and nothing else left behind just ash and smoke.  
  
She was on her hands and knees still shaking from the shock of the wave of blocking energy flowing through her body, leaving her mind starve for magic. She only heard about the Holy Smite before, but as it flushed through her body, charring her veins, cleansing it from the taint of magic, everything became agonizingly and unbearably clear. Realizing the dreadful truth of what she had just done.  
  
He was on her knees too. Solona heard his shallow and trembling breath as tried to swallow the pain she caused. She felt that unmistakable, sickening stink of burned flesh and the ash of the scorched earth and trees. The scent of destruction. And she had no fortitude to look up and face with her handiwork. She just kneeled in the muddy dirt, staring the ground underneath her. There was silence, even the song of the birds and the rustle of the leaves vanished and her mind was free from the whispers, the only sound she heard were her own heartbeat and Alistair's erratic wheeze.  
  
"I can't do this anymore." She said feebly as the noises of shifting came from him and the steps coming forward her.  
  
"Please, Alistair, if you really care for me, be a good templar and kill me." she pleaded not looking up at him.  
  
"Is that what you really want?" he asked through his teeth, his voice trembling, Solona couldn't decide that by the pain, the sorrow or the rage.  
  
She nodded. "I'm nothing more but a dead weight slowing you down. A pathetic plaything of the demons. I can't even save myself, how could I save Ferelden? Or slay the Archdemon?" He didn't respond just stood over her in accusing silence.  
  
Solona Amell never breaks. She did. She was laying on the ground defeated and vulnerable without her magic and pleaded for death to the only man who has ever understood her who she ever cared for. "I beg you Alistair, end this right here."  
  
Stillness, blaming and agonizing stillness for minutes, nothing moved, waiting for the judgment. She heard the metallic sound as the blade leaves its case and twitched, finding herself that recited the Chant of Light in silence.  
  
Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood, the Maker's will is written. She felt the swish of the sword over her head and squeezed her eyes bracing herself to the meeting with the Maker if he truly exists. He hesitated for agonizing seconds.  
  
" _DO IT!_ " She screamed and with a painful brawl what shook the whole forest, made the birds flee away, the weapon struck.  
  
The blade landed biting into the ground. Solona looked at it, seeing her own reflection on the steel.  
  
"Do you think that any of us would be alive without you?" he hissed. "I would have killed Morrigan in the moment we met her at Ostagar. I would have let Sten rot in his prison as the prey for the darkspawn for what he had done and Leliana in the Chantry among her daydreams. I would have let the Knight-Commander enact the Annulment and I would have cut Zevran's head from his body without hesitation." He crouched to her trying to find her glance. "And probably I would lie dead somewhere by now."  
  
She shook her head still facing the ground. "It's not true," she said.  
  
"It is," he shouted making her twitch by his voice. "What do you think how could I have saved Connor without you? Sacrificing Lady Isolde? Or just kill the poor boy? Or how could I enter the Dalish camp without  turning the whole situation into a massacre?"  
  
"I almost killed the Keeper because of my rage," she yelled. "If you hadn't stopped me I would have done it."  
  
"He was dead already, driven by his mad revenge for what happened generations ago." He riposted as stood up from her, taking his sword back to its case. She took a glance on his leg, the scorch marks her madness caused and a wave of pain washed through her.  
  
"If you want to die, do it yourself." And he dropped his knife on the ground just before her. "I'm done telling you what you are not. It's like screaming to a deaf." She heard the limping steps receding from her, leaving her alone with the emptiness inside her, with her starvation to feel the magic in her veins and with that agonizing loneliness of the lead-heavy weight of her deeds.  
  
Her hand reached out for the weapon and slowly she sat on her knees, not taking her eyes away from the blade. She took it out from its case and watched her reflection on the metallic surface. She touched the blue veins of her wrist with the edge of the knife, tightening her fingers into a fist and gathered her every courage, but her hand did not move to slit her skin open. She tried again and again but her will never turned to an action. The blade stayed over her wrist adamantly.  
  
The demon was right. She was weak to do what was right.  
  
Her fingers loosened and the knife fell out from her hand. And a scream burst out from her, so painful that she hoped it would summon every demon in that cursed forest to consume her. But nothing happened, nobody came and she just sat there in the middle of the forest with her frantic helplessness and cowardice. The Lady was wrong. _There was no light in the darkness._

* * *

She felt her magic flowing in her again as she reached the Dalish camp. She felt the Smite leaving her body leaving her muscles sore, her head pulsating with a migraine and her mind fuzzy. Everything spun around her and she found it a miracle itself that she could walk through the camp without collapsing or vomit. She heard people speaking for her, telling her things, but only fragments reached her. _You did it... we pledge alliance.... the mountain passes are open..._  
  
The only thing sobered her up was Alistair, the oozing, and deep burn marks on his forearm and the retching stink of it. Wynne tried to heal him, but Solona knew her spells too well. She knew that even if the pain and the wounds would disappear, the scars remain and there is no spell to make it vanish. It will always be an accusing memento.  
  
She stood in the middle of the camp watching his tissues regenerating, imprinting these marks in her mind to never forget what she was capable, to remind herself why she should have slit her veins. To make her remember her own cowardice.  
  
Eventually, Alistair looked up at her and when their eyes met he jumped up unceremoniously, almost pushing Wynne to the dirt and rushed to her and grabbing her wrist angrily, leading her out from the camp, taking the steps furiously, yanking her after him until the camp vanished behind them. Then he stopped pulling her to him violently, so close that his erratic and trembling breaths left vapor on her skin.  
  
"Never ever ask me again to kill you in the name of love." He hissed through his gritted teeth. "Do you hear me? _NEVER_ ". His speech turned into a yell now. "I swear to everything I will kill you with my own hands in that very moment you cease to be the girl you are, but until then do not dare to do this with me again." And he released her wrist with a wrathful tug, leaving it to rankle and pulsating in angry red.  
  
Solona without an answer took her hand on his half-healed wound and began to flow her energies into it, feeling as it vanishes and nothing left behind just those blaming scars.  
  
"In the name of love?" She asked him in a low and uncertain voice, staring her hands. "You love me?"  
  
Alistair grabbed her chin gently and driving her sight on him, leaning over until their lips almost met. "What do you think?" he heaved into her mouth. Her spell broke and the world cease to exist around them they were in this peaceful stillness, so close to each other. And the only thing she heard was her rapidly beating heart and his shallow breaths.  
  
"Sorry to interrupt tis utterly nauseating scene, but I have to discuss something with you, Warden." Morrigan's cruel voice broke the charm and brought back the painful reality. They scattered, looking away, trying to hide the signs of heat on their cheeks. "I found something interesting in the grimoire you brought from the Circle."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ar lasa mala ma dirth, hahren - I give you my word, elder.


	22. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona and the party left the Brecilian Forest, but no matter how thick the Veil around her, she can't get rid off of her demon and her nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my late post, but I stuck in a Victorian AU collaboration with two amazing artists, title,[ Crimson Tide](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6147820/chapters/14098748). Check it out if you heave time and tell us your opinion :)
> 
> Trigger Warning: Graphic description of violence and blood and attempted rape

The sun was shining down on the meadow caressing the little girl's skin smoothly. She was in her favorite dress. The yellow one with white daisies on it. In her hand the ragdoll that her mother made for her, the only thing she had from her. She was galloping back to her house for dinner, knowing her father waiting for her impatiently. She spent too much time at the glade climbing the old oak tree. The butcher's son had to work that day, so she conquered it alone. From the top of in clear weather, she could even see the walls of Tantervale. And that day there was not a single cloud in the sky.  
  
Her father promised her. If she got home in time, they could watch the meteor shower together. So she ran through the meadow as fast as her little legs could take the steps. And she even sprinted faster when she saw the white house with the overgrown ivy. Her father waited for her in the garden as always but something was wrong. She faltered at the gate as his lour face became clear. He slowly walked to her and crouched pressing a trembling kiss on her forehead. Something was wrong.  
  
"Papa, what's wrong? Did I do something? I came back before dusk. I was a good girl," the little girl asked. Her father stood up and took her tiny hands.  
  
"Come with me, little Poppy." and he led her into the house.  
  
The panic grasped the little girl as they entered. What did she do wrong? She came back in time, just as she was ordered. Her father did not say a single word. He always scolded her when she was doing something wrong. Something wasn't right.  
  
They entered the small living room and the little girl faltered. Two frightening soldiers, the flaming sword on their chest. She knew the sign. These men took away her brothers and they never came back.  
  
They were templars.  
  
"Little Poppy, be a good girl and go with them," there was nothing in his father's voice. No pain, no resistance, just emptiness.  
  
The little girl took some steps back and shook her head frantically. " _No, no, NO!!!_ " she screamed. "The butcher's son didn't come I didn't heal him. I didn't do magic, I'm not a mage. Please, Papa. I didn't do anything wrong this time. Don't give me to them. I don't want to live in that tower. I don't want to hear the demons... They terrify me. Please, I did it right this time," she pleaded, fat tears trickling down her face.  
  
One of the templars approaches her. " _NO!!!_ " she screamed and whisked her hand before her face and everything was on fire around her. The templar grabbed her. She kicked, punched, screamed as much as she could but he just get her under his arm, like she was a bag of grain and they took her away.  
  
" _Please, let me go, I need to help him. PLEASE!!! He will die,_ " she cried as saw her father standing in the middle of the burning house, the flames embracing him, melting the flesh from his skin like it was wax of a burning candle, his glassy eyes on her.  
  
" _Please!!!!_ " she sobbed but like she screamed but the templars just dragged her away, until she saw nothing else but the charred and smoking remnants of her home.

* * *

Solona startled from her nightmare with a scream, swimming in cold swear, her every muscle trembling. She battles for air as sat up, embracing her legs and burying her face into her thighs. She just wanted one night without nightmares. She just wanted to see the stars again. She just wanted simple things, not glory or unlimited power.  
  
A firm hand smoothed down on her back, a kiss landed on her sweaty forehead.  
  
"It was just a bad dream," Alistair whispered to her ears. Solona looked at him. He was smiling soothingly. He drew closer to her, propping her chin and kissing her gently. "They will never hurt you here," he kissed her again, this time, more fiercely, biting her lips hungrily, searching for her tongue greedily. Solona moaned to his mouth getting lost in his touch, sated the sanctuary what his kiss meant against the eternal whispers of demons. It was sweet like honey.  
  
"I love you, Alistair, I need you" she breathed into his mouth.  
  
But the stink. The stink of burnt flesh. It hit her. She felt the taste of blood in her mouth, felt as it poured into her mouth and a strong hand grabbed her throat and shoved her to the ground. Fingers tightened around her, closing the route for air. Solona looked up and saw two hazel eyes filled with hatred and rage. Alistair's face burning, his flesh melting down from his skull, but he grasped her throat, pressing out every life from her.  
  
Solona struggled under him, fought but he shoved her to the ground again, taking his knife and stabbing it into her stomach. "You did this to me," he rattled as twisted the blade in her.

* * *

Solona startled from sleeping with a shuddering scream, battling for air. The sheets stained with blood under her, her stomach ached. Her body burned like she had a high fever, the cold sweat beaded on her forehead. She watched her inner thighs red by her fluids and trembled. No matter how thick the Veil was around her She felt the Fade everywhere. The demons slipped into her thoughts, into her dreams, giving her terrible visions invoke monstrous memories in her twisting it into something... something...  
  
She wailed as closed her eyes and raked her face, an image swishing before her eyes, her magic hurting Alistair, burning unhealable scars into his skin. They nothing left in her untouched. Alistair wasn't a sanctuary anymore. There was no place to run away anymore. It was just her and the eternal darkness.  
  
_You have gone mad._ She heard the voice of the demon.  
  
She curled up on her side, sobbing silently, feeling as the blood trickling down her thighs. It did not matter. If only she could bleed out like this if she was too weak to slit her veins trough. She was dead anyway. She was weak and broken, with a power she couldn't control, with voices in her head she couldn’t silence.  
  
_Give up, little girl. Let me have you. Nothing left here for you._  
  
She didn't know into what she clang so tenaciously. But some primal instinct did not allow her to surrender. She still tried to get up and go forth. From somewhere she still had the fortitude to fight. Her mind gave up long ago, but her heart still fought. Why? Nothing was in that world what was worth to protect to save.  
  
The cry shook her. She curled more, embraced herself, tried to hide under the thick fur blanket, like she could hide away from the world, from herself to find a silent nook somewhere far away from everything.  
  
A gentle hand smoothed her hair. "Solona, you are bleeding," Leliana's worried voice whispered into her ears. They had a common tent. She hated to see the pity in her blue eyes as looked at her. It was even worse than Morrigan's contempt. She didn't need their sympathy, friendship, love, or anything. She needed their weapon to kill her if she was so coward to do the job herself.  
  
"I don't care." Solona snapped. "Maybe I will bleed out at last."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous! Come, we should go to the river to wash you clean," she tried to pull her up from her but Solona just cowered more.  
  
"Do you think I'm crazy?" Solona trembled. "Do you think I lost my grip and I'm a ticking bomb ready to explode? You know what, you are right. I had gone insane and I should be dead by now."  
  
"Solona, what are you talking about?" Leliana asked, trying to hug her from behind to comfort, but this just made her angrier.  
  
"Don't dare to patronize me!" she shouted as slapped her hands away. "I know what you are whispering behind my back."  
  
"I just want you to help you, Solona." Leliana apologized. "We all see you are struggling with something. I just... I want to help."  
  
"Then kill me," Solona hissed as sat up, turning to her. "I'm not useful anymore. How should I save Ferelden if I can't save myself?" her voice became louder by every word, trembling by her urge of cry. "How should I kill the Archdemon if I cannot even make these fucking voices in my head silent? _Tell me, Leliana_?" She screamed.  
  
"Just let us help you, Solona," Leliana tried to touch her but she winced away. She didn't understand, none of them understand. "We are... I am... your friend." Solona narrowed her eyes burning with rage. She didn't need false fondness. She didn't need the pretense. At least, Morrigan told it into her face. Leliana reached out for her again but he moved away, jumping up from her bedroll.  
  
"I don't need a friend," Solona hissed. "I need somebody who slits through my throat with a blade," and she picked up her clothes, stomping out from the tent.  
  
Solona rushed through the camp, taking a quick glance on Sten who was on guard that night. Their eyes met as he looked up at her. He called her kadan, a name of honor. What a lie. They all lied to her and she hated them. She hated their pretense like she was all right and those voices in her head were nothing else just her whim. She hated Alistair because he was still gentle and understanding. He should hate her for what she had done with him. She hated Leliana and Wynne because they treated her like she was a good person who wasn't responsible for hundreds of deaths. She hated Morrigan because she was the only one who saw her as she really was. She hated Sten for his pretense of respecting her. But most of all she hated herself for being so pathetic and weak.  
  
She reached the river. She did not feel the chilling winds on her burning hot skin. She did not feel the icy waves of the river as she took off her blood-stained nightwear and walked into the frore river. She didn't feel pain or cold. She felt nothing. It was interesting that how similar feeling was the ice on her skin to the fire, caressing her skin, giving her goosebumps, making her skin rigid, her fingers slowly turning to blue. She stretched her fingers and ignited a tiny flame in it, watched the water as the blood flowing from her crotch slowly paints it into sanguine.  
  
How did Cullen call her? The fire itself? How poetic would it be if she died by freezing to death? Her eyes were on the tiny life in her hand pulsating more and more languorously in sync with her heartbeat.  
  
"It is a bit late and cold for a night swimming, don't you think, Warden?" Zevran's carelessly sounded voice made her twitch and the fire vanished from her hand. She slowly turned to him, crossing her hands before her breasts. "Not that I'm not enjoying the fascinating view."  
  
Solona narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I came for some duel practice. You haven't held a dagger since we left Redcliffe," he said as leaned to a bole of a fir tree running his eyes across her naked body.  
  
"We agreed that these practices are too dangerous to continue," he laughed.  
  
"You said that. And I said that I'm an adamant trainer. So come out and grab your blades before I drag you out." his lips turned to a mischievous smirk. "However I would enjoy manhandling you."  
  
"Turn," Solona hissed, not showing any sign of amusement of his flirting. Zevran with a chuckle turned around.  
  
Solona walked out from the water, now feeling the icy winds on her skin, piercing like needles. She exhaled a fiery breath into her palm, feeling as it spreads in her body. She wiped herself dry with her nightgown before dropped it into the rushing river to carry away like it could flush away her nightmares too and wrapped her crotch into a fresh linen bandage before put on her underwear. She peeped on Zevran, who respectfully stared the night sky and did not even steal a gaze on her.  
  
"You may turn now," Solona said as took on her enchanter coat. Zevran did. With a smirk dropped the blades to her and stood in basic stance, just as her and they waited for each other to take the first move. It was like the Circle when she dueled at the training grounds, trying to anticipate her move. She tentatively took a step to the left. Zevran did the same. Another step and another. They danced around, the daggers in their hands ready to strike.  
  
Zevran did first. Left, left, right, right, a sudden move and one of the blade was at her throat. "You died," he purred like it was just a play for him. Solona slapped away the dagger angrily from her throat and counter-attacked, but Zevran jumped away. Left, left, right, right and Zevran danced away from her strike and hit her on her ribs. She cried out and swished to his direction fiercely but he just jumped away with an amused laugh. "You are too slow, Warden. Did you forget everything? Or those voices in your head make you that lumpish?" she struck again with a frustrated growl but Zevran jumped away again. "Why don't you use your magic, little minx? Or you only hurt the ones you love? I can't decide that Alistair is the luckiest or the most unfortunate man on earth," Solona now screamed as tried to reach him but with a swift move, he was behind her crossing the blades before her throat.  
  
"Tell me to do it. Tell me to kill you and I'll do it," Zevran purred into her ears. Solona wasn't sure that he was joking or not. But she felt as the fear flushed through her body, her pulse quickening, and her mouth dried out and her muscles grew taut. "I will even give you a proper funeral. And don't worry I will get a nice lady for Alistair as a consolation." Solona growled and shifted under the blades but they pinned her to one place firmly. "Do you really think it would solve anything? That anything would be better if you died? You know, little girl, your demon is right. You are weak."  
  
" _I'm not weak,_ " she shouted trying to break free, only causing that the blades came closer to her throat.  
  
"You are," Zevran hissed. "You are selfish and coward choosing the easier path. You are not even trying to fight against it. You just gave up." he drew the daggers even closer to her throat, pressing them to her skin gently. "Just say the word. But it would just cause more pain. Not for you but for the one you try to protect. What are you always saying? Alistair must live? Tell me to do it and you will kill him too. He loves you, foolish little girl. He would die if it means you live. Do you want to fight for something? Fight for him."  
  
"You don't understand, none of you understand..." Solona cried out, trying to swallow under the press of the blades.  
  
"Do you really want to die, Solona? Do you really want to leave him behind? It's not about the Blight or the Archdemon, not even about your demons. I could kill you, just say the word and I slit your throat. But wouldn't worth it to die in a fight if you have to?"  
  
"I have no strength left." Solona sobbed. Zevran withdrew his weapon from her and as he released her she fell to the ground. He crouched to her and took her into his arms.  
  
"Your strenght is closer than you believe. Fight for him," he whispered. Suddenly she felt very weak and tired she could barely keep her eyes open. She didn't want to fall asleep, she didn't want to dream. Zevran took her back to the camp, but only fragments of his words reached her. How could she fight against this? How could she fight against herself? As the camp came closer and closer the world became fuzzy around her and soon everything became dark.

* * *

Solona stood in the middle of the astrarium of Kinloch Hold, the snow drifted gently on her from the cloud she created. The night sky was clear, the stars shone like diamonds. she looked on it, enumerated the constellations in herself as the cold snowflakes landed on her face. She spun round and round, her arms spread open and she laughed genuinely. She was where she belonged. In her hiding place, gazing the stars, under the falling snow...alone. Something wasn't right.  
  
Metallic sounds of steps on the mosaic floor. Uncertain, shy and so familiar, making her smile. The familiar scent, wax, and parchment. A hand, touching her hair, fingers brushing through it. Hot breath on her skin as he leaned over her, calloused touch smoothing down her arms.  
  
"Maker knows my sin and I pray that he will forgive me," the claws of his gauntlet dug into her flesh, shedding her blood. She cried out and it echoed back felt unholy and lustful. He smeared the virulent of blood on one of her arms stained his gauntlet with it. He touched her lips, smudging it on her, making her taste her own hot and red liquid. "Do you feel the calling of the blood, mage?" he hissed, trailing his hand down on her neck, tightening gently around it. "Do you want to taste unlimited power, don't you?" he pressed her closer to him and even through his thick templar armor he felt the hotness of his body. It was so easy to believe it was Cullen, they were at the astrarium and the stars shone down on them.  
  
"You are an abomination, a disease from what I cannot be cured." His gloved fingers left deep scratches on her neck as he tightened it around. "The only way to be cured to take what I always wanted. Only satisfaction gives me redemption."  
  
But before she could realize his words, he had already torn her clothes off her and shoved her to the floor, pinning her arms over her head. Solona fought, struggled, screamed under him, kicking in every direction she could. He closed her two wrists in his one hand with the other slapped her. The metal gloves tore the side of her mouth open. He leaned over her, kissed her lips, sucked the flowing blood from it. "You will be my sacrifice for the Maker's forgiveness." he groaned, his bloodshed eyes bathed in madness.  
  
"Cullen, please, no!!!" Solona sobbed. He sat up and slapped her again, causing a deep cut on her cheeks. Why didn't she wake up. She knew it was a dream, her mind screamed to wake up, and still she did not. She struggled under him as he clumsily tried to peel himself out from his armor.  
  
" _WAKE UP!!!_ " she screamed but nothing happened just the crystal dome of the astrarium began to crack. With her every cry more deeply. Cullen managed to remove his chest plate and kissed her again, biting her lips brutally. She shrieked as he caused another bruise on her, so loud that the crystal dome exploded and the shards fell on her like snowflakes cutting more wounds on her. She felt the cold shiver of the sudden wind on her skin as she still struggled, begged for Cullen to stop.  
  
" _PLEASE, WAKE UP!!!_ " she screamed. Cullen sat up for a moment searching something at her belt and the next moment she heard the metallic sound as a blade leaves its case. And he pressed the knife to her throat.  
  
"If you don't shut up, I will cut that poisonous tongue out of your pretty mouth," he hissed but the next moment he grew stiff as a sword but through him like a hot knife the butter. His blood poured on her in virulent and his lifeless corpse landed on her.  
  
She screamed, sobbed under his weight before somebody moved the body from her. Two firm hands hugged her, putting a fur coat on her blood-soaked, bruised body.  
  
"It's okay, it's okay, I'm here," she heard Alistair's soothing voice as she snuggled to him more and more crying uncontrollably. It was a dream, she was in a dream, it wasn't real, she knew. She saw that Alistair's arm was unharmed, not blemished by her magic. It wasn't him, but it was so tempting to give in the illusion.  
  
Do you want to fight for something? Fight for him. He heard Zevran's words echoing from everywhere. And she pushed him away from herself, jumping up and slowly taking the steps backward, to the edge of the tower.  
  
"You are not him..." her voice was weak like a silent breeze in the roaring wind. He stood up, taking the steps toward her, his mouth turned to a bestial smile.  
  
"You still resist, little girl," it was her own voice, piercing, like thousands of needles, and slowly his figure dissolved and she saw herself walking to her, his eyes swept through her filled with contempt like she was just a poor imitation and the demon was real. "I surprise that any of it left in you," Solona still took the steps, feeling the edge of the tower closer and closer to her, until nothing was behind her but the endless gap.  
  
"I would die before you can possess me," Solona hissed as took a quick glance to the void under her. The demon laughed. It was like a thunder, shaking the ground under her.  
  
"Just wait till the end." it snarled. "You will beg for me to have you," and with a certain move, it pushed her into the darkness and with a scream, she woke up in her tent.


	23. Desperate Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona is more and more desperate and she feels only one way to get out from the trap of her demon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not dead just have a bit complicated life nowadays :)
> 
> Sorry, I try to update more frequently from now :)

If the days weren't her friends, the nights were her enemies. At least when they were on road the there was always something keeping her mind occupied from her own poisonous thoughts. Darkspawn, hostile soldiers, something always waited for them wherever went. At least she could fight against these enemies. They were flesh and bones, blood and guts. But her demons, her thoughts were black shadows in the night. Invisible and untouchable, only leaving icy tendrils behind, slowly rotting her sanity away. The Fade was the endless field of horrors, the waking world was desolation filled with desperation and sorrow.  
  
She was angry and the rage caused her magic to surge in her violently, the spells she casted leaving agony behind. And the whispers, those constant whispers. How she could fight with an enemy she did not even see? She wanted to fight but against who? The demon? Herself? What if there wasn't even any demon just her own twisted imagination? What if the demon was the manifestation of her own latent insanity? Nothing was certain anymore. She needed answers fast.  
  
A blade pressed against her throat.  
  
"You are dead, Warden," Zevran smirked. Solona with a growl pushed it away with his daggers. He jumped away. Solona counterattacked but Zevran could easily evade it, just as her any effort to reach him. She just tumbled and flailed during these trainings, there was not the lightest sigh of her former agility. She was tired, exhausted but Zevran was adamant always pushing her farther. She tried to reach out for him, but with a swift move he kicked her legs and she landed on the ground, laying on her back. Zevran towered over her, the insolent smirk on his face, taunting her, driving over the edge. They were doing this for hours now,  
  
"Are you giving up, little minx?" he tittered. "Such a disappointment. You are becoming worse by every day. I don't even know how you could defeat me the first time. It is a shame, you have such endowments," Solona felt as the rage narrowed her perception and snarled as kicked Zevran's legs to make him fall. She jumped up and the next moment she was over him, a fireball formatting in her hand. She panted angrily, the green of her eyes blazed, reflecting the flames in her hand.  
  
"Kill me!"  
  
_Kill him!_  
  
Her spell burnt her skin sending painful waves through her body, demanding to release and she wanted to. She wanted to hurt Zevran, wanted to listen to the whispers in her mind she couldn't silence, she wanted to give in to make this end one way or another.  
  
"Kill me!"  
  
_Kill him! I know you want it, little girl._  
  
" _FUCK!_ " she screamed as dismounted from him and cast her spell on a dried-out tree trunk that began to burn with high flames darting into the sky. She crouched down watching as it burned into ashes raking her temple with her fingers stronger and deeper every stroke until her nails carved angry red strias on her head. She notched it until her blood shed. It was useless, just an epic waste of time.  
  
Zevran stood up, removed the dust from his trousers and shirt, and took away the daggers. "At least you didn't cast the spell on me this time. What did your demon whisper this time?"  
  
"That it is always whispering," she snapped, her voice trembled by her urge of cry. She was fed up with it, the uncontrollable rage in her, with the whispers she couldn't silence, the nightmare from she couldn't escape. "To kill you." Solona slowly stood up and blew out the fire leaving angry black marks. She gave back her training blades to Zevran, avoiding his too understanding glance. Why was he being so kind? She had just almost killed him. She hated them for their pity and sympathy. She felt even more miserable than she already had been. She was just the hollow of her old self, the prideful and insolent mage girl who outshone everyone. She was a sad and pathetic excuse of a mage.  
  
"This is pointless, Zevran," she growled. "We are doing this for a week now and I didn't get better. I still feel the rage bursting in me. I still hear the whispers, have the nightmares. We should just end this. This is a waste of time and effort." She wanted to walk away; into the desolation that darkspawn left behind and stay there where she could hurt nobody. Exile herself and die alone. She looked up at at the sky that the war painted to red and orange, hiding away the sun, making everything more devastated looking than it had already been. There was no light in the darkness. "It is over," she stated dryly.  
  
"So you just give up like this?" Zevran cried after her. Solona stopped looking back at him over her shoulder.  
  
"Why do you even care, Zevran?" she snapped, "If I die, you'll be free and still you and Alistair desperately want to keep me alive. Why?"  
  
"At first, as I said many times before I won't be free because my contract is about to kill every remained Warden in Ferelden." Zevran said as slowly, deliberately began to stride to Solona. "At second I owe you with a life. You spared me, Warden. So it became my duty to serve you."  
  
A bitter and unamused laughter left Solona's mouth. "The Code of Honor of the assassins? I release you from duty. You don't have to serve me anymore. Help Alistair to defeat the Blight if you want but I'm done with this shit."  
  
"And what are you planning to do, Warden? Leaving him alone here against the whole Blight?" Zevran's voice was still soft but something spiced it. Maybe anger or desperation, she couldn't decide and didn't care. "You are not just weak but selfish too. It is not about you. We are at war here, Solona. When will you understand?"  
  
"Why do you fucking care?" she screamed. „This isn't your war and you are not in my debt anymore."  
  
"I've been watching you for a time now, Warden." Zevran began, taking something from his belt, a dagger. The hilt richly embellished, just as the leather case. "I saw how you rescued people, killed people, how you showed mercy and struck people to death without hesitation. You remind me of an old friend of mine. Someone who was close to me. Someone I betrayed. Someone I killed. I failed and lost her."  
  
"And?" Solona asked impatiently.  
  
"The Blight is everybody's war, Solona, not just the Wardens'. If you fail everything will perish in the darkness. I did many bad things in my life and it is very likely I deserve death." Zevran took an uncertain step toward her. "You were my last assignment, Warden, and I was supposed to die there and yet I am here because you spared my life. And you spared many other, Solona, when it would have been easier to give up and kill them or let them die. Rinna was the first who showed a different life. You are the second. I failed her but I won't fail you."  
  
Solona listened to the assassin with unblinking face. She was too tired and resigned for sermons. And why would she even listened to an assassin who had only one job, to kill her and he failed? She took a deep an annoyed sigh as raised her eyebrows and looked at him. "It is over assassin. Do as you like, but I am done here."  
  
"Okay, Solona, go. Be a hermit, an apostate, dinner for the darkspawn, or an abomination, whatever you like. But I want to give you something, Warden." Zevran cried after her as she strode away. She stopped. "Consider it as a farewell gift if you like." and he handed the dagger to her. "Rinna gave this to me not much before her death. "He handed the dagger. Solona took it out of its case. The black blade in green and blue as the faint light of the sun, which could break through the thick curtain of storm clouds shone on it.  
  
"This is obsidian, dragon glass," Solona stated as held it to the direct light of the sun and watched the mesmerizing dance of colors.  
  
"It is called Demonbane. Maybe it could help to defeat your demons if I failed." Solona snapped her eyes on Zevran. He wasn't smirking, that mischievous glint disappeared from his honey eyes. Was he serious?  
  
"Why are you doing this?" Solona asked, her voice fainter by every word.  
  
"Because you are one of the few I consider as a friend, Warden," Solona chuckled. But it was empty. Friends had always been betraying her sooner or later. She had nobody and she needed nobody. Not even Alistair. She tried to convince herself. It was her pride and magic left to her, her two greatest friends and enemies.  
  
"You should find new ones, assassin. I don't need friends, I don't need anybody," and she yielded the blade to him but Zevran just crossed his hand before his chest and that insolent smirk appeared on his face once again.  
  
"My, my, Solona, dear. What happened to your manners. It is a gift."  
  
Solona grimaced as attached the dagger to her belt. "Fine," she hissed turning her way to the camp.

* * *

The camp was always silent, everybody doing his or her own job. War made interesting and obligate alliances, she stated in herself as her eyes met the always stern ones of Sten.  
  
He called her kadan.  What a mendacity! Solona knew if he hadn't pledged alliance he would have strangled her, killed her, with the sword she reclaimed for him.  
  
They shot a glare at each other as she passed before him. Sten murmured something in Qun under his nose but Solona was too languid to care about it. Sten was just a deserter anyway, a murderer of innocents. Who cared about his opinion anyway. Who cared he thought she was coward to run away or weak because he couldn't control herself?  
  
"Solona, my dear," Wynne's soft voice made her twitch. He hated her, hated all of them, and hated everyone who was dear to her because it was easier to blame them, keep them far from herself. "Alistair's arms-"  
  
"It won't heal," she cut the old mage. "The scars-" she swallowed to choke back a sob and shame wanted to overwhelm her.  
  
"My child," Wynne took a step toward her reaching out but she took one backward at the same time shaking her head to a rejection.  
  
"Why didn't you perform the Rite of Tranquility on me?" she asked.  
  
Wynne looked puzzled at her. "Sol-"  
  
"Why?" she asked again. "You knew I am a dreamer, that sooner or later I would lose my grip. I know the Knight-Commander wanted it. Then why did you let this all happen?" She accused her, her mentor, she accused everybody but herself. "If I would be a Tranquil-"  
  
"...the world would be poorer with a mage like you," Wynne finished her sentence. "Solona, I was like you at your age. I wanted to break free, I was confused, hated the whole world. But you have duties now, obligations. You can't act like a pouty goose. I know you are considering to leave-"  
  
"Really? You were like me?" she scoffed as raised her green eyes on her, the rim of it reddening by the gathering tears. "Did you kill people? Did you hurt the one you wanted to protect? Did you feel shame, terror, and devastation? Did your very own self want to consume you?"  
  
"It is not you, my dear, it is the demon."  
  
"Maybe I created it in Haven, maybe it is my other self I wanted to suppress. Maybe I am originally evil."  
  
"If you were the one you think you are we wouldn't hesitate to perform the Rite."  
  
"I was your _atonement_ ," Solona screamed so loud that drew everyone's attention on herself. She saw the eager anticipation in their eyes but she wouldn't have given the satisfaction to them to see her break again. "I was your atonement for your child who they had taken away, for your apprentice who fled from your mentoring, I was the atonement for your every mistake. You wanted to make it right with me but when I wasn't the model student I should have been. But it was easier to pretend than face the ugly truth wasn't it? Even when you realized my affection toward Cullen, a templar, even when I entered the Fade without permission, I helped a blood mage to flee. You made Tranquil the others for half-serious misdemeanors. And I am still here, bearing my magic, I am even free from shackles of the Circle."  
  
"Solona, we loved you as our own," Wynne was still calm, his voice still infuriatingly soft. "We just wanted to protect you. We did everything to protect you."  
  
Solona released a dry chuckle as stepped to the old mage. "From who?" she hissed but didn't wait for the answer and strode away, every step faster than the last one until it culminated in a run like she could run away. She heard her name calling, heard Alistair calling her. Bur she just ran until every drop of air had left her lungs. She stopped in a little glade panting with choking and deep breaths trying to calm down, not feeling her magic trying to break her free.  
  
_You left alone, little girl. You have nobody and nobody needs you. She heard the demon._  
  
"Then come and get me. Possess me if you can," she hissed, but her answer was just a shuddering laugh echoing back from everywhere of the still forest.  
  
_This is not the way to play, little girl. Come to the Fade, come to me._  
  
"Fine," she sighed. "I'm fed up with your games. Let's just end this, one way or another," the echoes became harsher and louder until it was nothing else but a deafening cacophony.  
  
Solona sat down and closed her eyes, let her magic flow in her freely. Everything became silent around her and slowly she felt floating. It was almost over.  
  
"Solona."  
  
No. Not this time.  
  
"Solona," she heard Alistair’s voice again, breaking through her magic and she fell back, into her body. With a grunt, she opened her eyes, meeting the crisp of his hazel ones, crouching beside her, her hand gently on her shoulder.  
  
"Why are you here?" she asked. Alistair sat down to her, pulled up the sleeves of his shirt, making his burn marks visible.  
  
"Try to heal me," he commanded.  
  
"I thought we are over this. I can't," she replied.  
  
"Try to heal me," Alistair commanded again.  
  
Solona with a reluctant move took her hand on his skin. She felt her energy flowing, leaving her body, trying to mend her mistake. She felt as it embraced both of them and for a desperate moment, she even believed that this time, she might make it right. But when her spell ceased the angry marks were still there, taunting her, accusing her. Solona let out a whimper as and bit her lip, her hand retracted. "I said I can't," she murmured.  
  
"And I don't care, Solona," he snapped. "These are just scars, I have plenty of them."  
  
"This is different, it was me-"  
  
"And I forgave you." he cut her off. "But I won't forgive you that you are doing now, that you are planning to do. I forbid you to give up, do you hear me. I _forbid_ you to leave me alone in all this."  
  
"Please don't do this to me," a painful sob escaped from her.  
  
"I need you. Not your magic to defeat the Blight. I need you. I can't explain to you because even I don't understand," he brushed his finger across the line of her jaw until reached her chin and lifting her head forcing her to look at him, his thumb wiping the trickling hot tears. He leaned to her , touching his forehead to his. "Please, stay with me," he breathed before gently kissed her lips, holding back his desperation but it was enough that the storming emotions in Solona come to the surface. She responded it with a fierce motion, pulling him to herself so strong she fell on her back, landed in the icy grass Alistair on her. Solona deepened the kiss, lost in it, relishing every desperate moment. His hands framed her head, her arms around her neck, everything was a sweet mess.  
  
Maybe she dreamed. Maybe she was in the Fade ant it was an illusion, one last twisted game of the demon before it finally had her. But she didn't care it was real or not. Nothing mattered.  
  
_Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.  All you love would be lost..._  
  
The wind brought her own twisted tittering voice.  
  
" _No_ ," Solona gasped as she broke away from the kiss. Alistair looked confused but let her stand up and he did the same.  
  
She couldn't let the demon reach him through her, she couldn't let it hurt him or make her hurt him as she did before.  
  
"I can't do this, I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice feeble, almost a whine. "Believe me, Alistair, I want but-" her speech trailed off and she choked back a sob. "Please, just let me go, it will be better for everyone."  
  
She saw the kind lines of his face slowly hardened and an angry glint flashed through the hazel of his eyes. " _What is the oath of the Wardens, Solona?_ " he growled.  
  
"What?" she blinked.  
  
Alistair with a violent move grabbed her arm and pulled her to himself. "What is the oath of the Grey Wardens?" he shouted  
  
"In war victory," her voice trembled. "In peace vigilance, in death-" she couldn't continue.  
  
"In death?" Alistair hissed, tightening his fingers around her arm.  
  
"Sacrifice." Solona breathed and looked away but with a harsh tug drew her back to him.  
  
"Exactly," Alistair grunted. "You said the words, drank the blood, survived. You are one of us now, bound to the Order by blood. You are a Warden, Solona and we are in a fucking _Blight_ ," Solona wanted to break free from his grip but he just tightened his fingers more furiously around her. "You don't want me, fine, I can deal with it. But you won't abandon your duty, do you hear me. Do you want to die? Fine. Go ahead, fight with the darkspawn, with the Archdemon, fulfill your oath. But I won't let you run away from your duty like a coward traitor."  
  
He shoved her away from him so hard she almost lost her balance and fell to the ground. Alistair took some angry stride until he reached her again. "Was I clear enough?" he hissed. Solona nodded her head to a frightened yes. Something flashed through his eyes, something painful before he turned away from her and stomped away.  
  
Solona touched her sore arm, hissed ass her fingerprints brushed across it and brought more pain.  
  
It was better this way. It was the only way.  
  
Her way back to the camp was longer than it should be. She deliberately chose the longer way back, through the untrodden path. Waiting for her tears to stop finally. How many times more she could say him no? She touched her arms, the marks that became purple and hissed. Maybe he didn't even need anymore.

* * *

The camp was silent by the time she reached it, only Sten sat by the fire sharpening his sword with a flint. Solona sat down by the base of a tree and watched the dancing flames. He did the guard tonight.

"You may go to sleep,” she commanded. “I’ll guard tonight.”  
  
Sten took back his sword to its case before stood up. "As you wish, kadan," he said and headed to his tent.  
  
"You don't have to call me like this." Solona cried after him.  
  
Sten turned back to her, his stern eyes running across her. "I do." he declared and left her.  
  
Solona hummed and leaned against the tree, watched the campfire, the dancing figures in it. She stretched the fingers of her left hand and ignited flames in it then blew out, then again ignite and blew out. Like when she was a little girl and her magic was awakening. When it was just an innocent game. She looked up at the sky, searching for the stars, like her little trick could bring them back but they were nowhere.  
  
Solona laughed although she found nothing funny or even ironic in it.  
  
A wet nose poked her hand. Solona turned to Darkspawn ho laid next to her, placing its head on her laps. Solona stroke the base of his ears that the dog rewarded with a pleased growl.  
  
"I screwed up, isn't it, boy?" she asked, mainly from herself. The dog whined and wormed more into her lap. "You have to take care of him, promise me, boy," her tears trickled down her face. "I-" it broke out from her.  
  
She laid on the mabari and curled up and cried in silence. "Please tell him, I'm sorry but I had no other choice. Tell him I loved him. And when this is all over find him a girl, kind and gentle he deserves. Better than I was. Promise me, boy." Barkspawn whined, almost howled painfully. Solona embraced the dog, gripped its fur in her fist, buried her face into its back. "Goodbye, buddy."  
  
Solona hesitated to sit up but she did eventually. She closed her eyes and let her magic flow through her. They had enough number to defeat one abomination. And Alistair could defeat the Blight without her. It was the best she could do. The only thing she regretted that she couldn't see the stars for one last time. She drifted in the void, seeing herself at the campfire but the image slowly melted around her. She was almost there.  
  
Barkspawn's fierce snarl echoed suddenly and she snapped back to herself. With a frustrated grunt, she opened her eyes. Morrigan stood over her, her hands crossed before her chest, her cruel golden eyes reflected the flames. Her black hair framed her milky skin. She seemed like a vicious predator as looked down on her.  
  
"Tis night is too lovely to spoil it with becoming an abomination, don't you think?" she said in her usual mocking tone.  
  
"What do you want, Morrigan?" Solona hissed.  
  
"Have you considered that I told you about Mother's grimoire?" she asked.  
  
"My answer is still no." Solona snapped. "I won't kill your mother who saved my and Alistair's life at Ostagar because of your paranoia. At least you have a mother."  
  
"Yes, a mother who wants to possess me to lengthen her life. If nobody else but you should understand it." Morrigan scoffed. Solona narrowed her eyes. She lost her patience for this shit. She just wanted things to end. "Has your mother ever done something like this with you? Has she bred you with the only purpose to be her host?"  
  
"My mother killed herself when I was two." Solona shouted. "My father gave me to the Templar without a word when I was six. Do you think only you had a hard childhood? Spare me." And she dismissed her with a gesture and closed her eyes and tried it again.  
  
"What your demon said to you to drive you into this? Did it threatened you to harm your precious sweetheart?" Solona opened her eyes again and shot a glare at Morrigan. "Foolish Warden. My mother grimoire hides the secret of all magic and I can't help you. But go ahead, do it, I'm sure that imbecile can drive the world into chaos without your help too."  
  
"You are bluffing." Solona hissed.  
  
Morrigan's lips turned to a vicious smile. "You'll never know just if you help me."  
  
Solona let out a resigned and annoyed sigh and grimaced as stood up. "Fine," she growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you liked the chapter. 
> 
> Please tell me if you do or not, comments and constructive critisism is always welcome. 
> 
> I'm eager to hear your opinion. :)
> 
> Have a nice day everybody :)


	24. The Witch of the Wilds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona takes a visit at Flemeth to obtain her grimoire.

They camped near the Korcari Wilds, about few hours of walk from the once proud ruins of Ostagar where ancient memories lingered, memories of the defeat, the desolation of the Blight.  
  
Solona had never thought that she would enter this cursed wilds once again. And still, she roamed among the reeking swamps and ruins as old as time. She felt the darkspawn around herself, heard the buzzing sound at the back of her skull but she was more concerned about the primeval magic tingled on her skin and made everything silent and lukewarm.  
  
There was silence. Even her demon retreated into their hellhole.  
  
It was a moment of peace and terror. Her mind was clear but it didn't felt right. Something much darker, more ancient lingered there and this brought more fear on her more than all the demons of the Fade. She winced to every muffled noise, every noise of the moving bushes, gripping her shaft of her staff tighter every time. Every step into the sodden earth under the feet felt heavier and the splashing sound of it was a loud smack. The world without the voices in her head was harsh, threatening and silent. She found it disturbing how she began to miss the whispers around her, the demon tempting her.  
  
"Solona," Alistair's voice was stern and cold, rumbling like a thunder, making her twitch almost dropping her staff. There was nothing in from the earlier tenderness. Solona didn't heal the bruises he made, letting it turn blue and back. "Ostagar is an hour of walk from here."  
  
"Later," Solona cut him off not even looking at him just scanning the perimeter with her eyes, searching for something that could break this chocking calm. " Let's deal with Flemeth first then we can scout the ruins."  
  
"This is _the_ Flemeth?" Leliana blinked. "It is impossible."  
  
"Maybe." Solona snapped. "Maybe not. She saved us with Alistair at Ostagar. Her magic... well, if she is _the_ Flemeth or not we shouldn't underestimate her."  
  
"It is a waste of time," Sten grumbled. "Do you intend to go west until it becomes east? We are wandering aimlessly. No strategy, no plans, no sense. Defeating the Blight is our goal and we are heading away "  
  
" _I_ decide what is a waste of time and what is not," Solona declared louder than she should have, her voice thundering back to her, making the birds fly away. But maybe he was right. Maybe it was just an epic waste of time. Maybe Morrigan just fooled her and she was desperate to fall. She cursed herself a thousand times to let herself be talked into this. "You can stand back in line or go away. It's up to you." She heard Sten mumbling a Qunari curse under his nose.  
  
The magic thickened around her, suppressed her magic, make her feel dizzy. They were close.    
  
She saw the little shabby hut looming up in the mist, the old witch working in her small herbal garden. She watched the old woman in her ragged clothes.  
  
It didn't felt right. She owed to Flemeth. With her life. With Alistair's life.  
  
A firm hand grabbed her arm, the same place Alistair bruised her a day before. Solona hissed in pain as it pulled her behind a tree and Alistair pushed her against it. Solona avoided the crisp of his hazel eyes but she felt his glance piercing her skin. He was still angry, she could tell from the way he took his breaths, from the way he still held her arm or the way those glints flashed through his warm eyes.  
  
"Why am I here?" he hissed.  
  
"What?" Solona blinked. "I thought you would-"  
  
"What are we doing here?" he asked as pressed her to the tree more. "We are supposed to reach Honnleath by now. Don't you think you should initiate me into your plans more?"  
  
"I have a business with Flemeth on behalf of Morrigan." Solona snapped.  
  
Alistair snorted "Wicked witches among themselves, how charming. And what possible business you could have with that old hag and her bitchy daughter. Sacrificing virgins at the full moon? Or other witchy things?"  
  
"What is your problem, Alistair?" Solona yanked her arm free from his grip. "You were the one who insisted coming with us."  
  
"Beside being fed up to be toyed by you? Or we have a huge ass Blight to defeat and we do everything else but that?" he scoffed. "Sten is right. We are wandering aimlessly. What possible reason could bring us back to the Korcari Wilds?" he grabbed her arm again, pulling her to himself. "Just tell me one blasted reason."  
  
"Answers." Solona's reply was short and categorical. She had no better thing to say to Alistair. What she possibly could even tell him? That she was so desperate that she felt in Morrigan's obvious trap? That she tried to bargain some time for herself because she was coward to take her own life away? Or that she needed to protect him from her very self? None of these felt good enough.  
  
"To what question?" Alistair hissed.  
  
Solona peeled herself out of his grip once again. "To the oldest one. Why?" and she strode away, touching her sore arm and wincing by the pain it caused.  
  
"Is that all?" he cried after her. Solona spun back to him and ran her eyes across him. She tried to put on her mask, being unreadable not showing any sign of her uncertainty or her desperation to protect him from herself. But seeing the dark angry flashes in his eyes made it her concerns were baseless.

" _In death, sacrifice._ I won't break my oath, Alistair. And Flemeth or Morrigan can help me to keep it," something changed on her face, softened the stern lines, she couldn't tell what. "I should thank you for reminding me of my duty," she said and before he could say before turned on her heels again.

* * *

"What the wind brought back to me" Flemeth chuckled in the back of her throat as Solona approached her. "A young Warden coming back to me, asking my help or my life."  
  
Solona frowned as stopped still gripping her staff with a tight hand. "Do you know why I am here?"  
  
The old witch dropped her head back and laughed. "I felt your magic way before you have even entered the Wilds, my lass. It is surprisingly distinctive and it is increasing. Giving such power to an ignorant and gullible girl like you. Fate or Maker or whatever you call it has a great sense of irony, I have to give that." Flemeth turned back to her herbs seemingly ignoring the Wardens, ready for an upcoming fight. "Put your weapon away, Warden, you won't need it."  
  
"You haven't answered my question," Solona replied, still holding her staff in her hand not knowing what to expect. Flemeth released a raspy-voiced chuckle.  
  
"It seems my lovely daughter has finally found someone who at last willing to be her tool. Such poisonous words she can whisper into your ears, doesn't she? We are more common than she thinks," the witch turned on her heels again and took some steps to Solona until reached her. Solona heard the metallic sound behind her as a blade left its case. Flemeth's cruel golden eyes looked over her shoulder looking right to Alistair. "You won't need that, young lad. I am no harm to you... at least now," she chuckled as switched her look back to Solona. With her long boney finger the witch caressed the line of her jaw. "Tell me little bird, what plan Morrigan has hatched this time?"  
  
Solona ran her eyes across the old woman, her old and fragile looking body.  
  
It didn't feel right. She had killed enough, had seen enough death in this Blight. It didn't feel right to be the tool of Morrigan even if it could bargain her some time. It wasn't better than bargain with her own demons.  
   
"She found out your secret and sent me to kill you."  
  
Flemeth dropped her head back and laughed, this time, louder, so loud the songbirds flew away and after the last echo slipped away silence descended on the swamp near the shabby hut, a mix of amusement and never ending contempt. "Such honesty. Which one I wonder? I have so many, some of them older than the legend of Flemeth itself, some part has never been told," Flemeth turned on her heels again and with a light move hinted to Solona. "Come, young Warden, take a walk with me," she ordered. " You should leave your staff here, you won't need it."  
  
Solona looked to Alistair with a questioning glance."Alone. Leave your sweetheart here. And don't worry young lad she will return safe and sound. I give you my word. And my word always meant so much for the Theirins." Flemeth chuckled in a shuddering way like needles pierced their skin.  
  
"If you think I would let her be alone with you, you are more foolish than I expected," Alistair cried after the old witch grabbing Solona's hand in a protective way with no trace of his earlier anger or gall.  
  
"This dance can be danced in many ways. Believe me, young lad, the poor Flemeth knows this too well. Let her come with me and nobody will be harmed," Solona looked into the crisp of Alistair's hazel eyes and forced a smile on her face as handled her staff to him and nodded. Alistair's fingers slowly released her his eyes on her for the whole time.  
  
"Be ready," she mouthed to Alistair soundlessly and with a trembling nod let her go with the Witch of the Wilds.

* * *

Flemeth and Solona rolled away from the hut until it vanished into the mist of the horizon. From time to time Solona looked behind her back, watching the fading figure of Alistair, holding her staff in his hands. As they went further from the hut she felt her magic flooding through her veins again, boiling her blood, making her head dizzy and delirious. The whispers slowly returned, poisoning her thoughts again.  
  
Flemeth didn't talk to her just led the way through the decaying ruins and rotting swamps from time to time releasing a chuckle in amusement. Solona found nothing amusing in it just tried to coop the tearing pain her rushing energies left behind.  
  
They were heading to Ostagar, to the Warden ruins where Solona had met Morrigan for the first time and cursed the thousand times since then. The old witch stopped in the middle of the ruins and turned to the Warden. She was smiling with a cruel and amused smirk like she was just a pawn on the eternal chess table of her and Morrigan. "You are such a disappointment, young Warden. I saved your life and how you repay it coming back to me to kill me for a book that is useless to you?"  
  
"I don't intend to kill you, Flemeth. I owe you with my life. But Morrigan-"  
  
"Morrigan knows nothing about the forces she intends to play with," the old witch cut her off. "You know even lesser."  
  
"She believes you want to-"  
  
"I know what she believes," Flemeth thundered. "But we believe that we want to. It is all we ever do, young Warden," the smirk suddenly froze off her face as walked to Solona. Flemeth's boney and cold fingers once again caressed the line of her jaw. "So much warmth in you, so much fire, so much darkness and so much light. So much burden. But you have to kill the girl or the girl will kill you."  
  
Solona frowned. "Are you talking about the demon?"  
  
Flemeth withdrew her hand. "I offer you a deal, young Warden. Morrigan wishes my grimoire? Take it as a trophy. Tell her I am slain and let me go away freely. Perhaps I surprise my dear daughter one day, perhaps I will just observe what she would do with her newcoming freedom. It would be so enlightening. Would you give this to an old woman in return for your life and for his life?"  
  
"Morrigan will know."  
  
Flemeth rolled her eyes. "You give too much credit to her. She knows things for sure but only the surface. What would you gain if you killed me? My grimoire has no answers for you. And do you think Morrigan would be more loyal to you? She is loyal to only one. Would you worth to begrime your hand with more blood for nothing?"  
  
Solona took a deep breath and closed her eyes trying to ignore the whispers around her tempting her to shed blood, the buzzing sound of darkspawn around her. Flemeth stood there patiently, waiting for her answer.  
  
She felt the fiery breath of the demon on her neck and flames licked her fingertips. It was harder to control by every second.  
  
"It overwhelms you, doesn't it? You feel it consuming you, and you can do nothing. Your precious Circle has never taught you how to control it, have they? What is beyond their perception can be nothing more but a threat," Flemeth hummed. "So they used magic they could never understand and unleashed something that they cannot stop. Ignorant fools," the old witch slid her fingers down the line of her spine and the piercing pain eased almost immediately. Solona still panted, the agony gathered burning tears in her eyes. "Not the demons will kill you, not even the darkspawn, little bird but your fate."  
  
As the moment witch's finger left her skin the pain returned and Solona cried out in agony her limbs shaking. "Breathe, Warden, deep and slow," Flemeth ordered. "Let it flow through you, don't fight against it."  
  
Solona obeyed and with every breath, she took deeper and deeper the pain slowly vanished. "Why are you helping me?" Solona wheezed.  
  
Flemeth laughed so hard the songbirds flew away. "For my life, young Warden. And yours. I see a greater role in you than defeating the Blight. I only want to be sure you will follow the right path. And now, it is time for the old hag to disappear or the little bird has other ending for me?"  
  
Solona took a deep and trembling breath and closed her eyes, her hand was in a fist. "Go," she whispered almost silently. She heard a soft and low chuckle then a cold breeze shivering down her spine leaving goosebumps behind. Flemeth disappeared. She left nothing behind just cold air and more questions than she already had.  
  
Solona took her trail back to the hut.  
  
The others waited for her there in nervous silence. Alistair jumped up from his seat and rushed to her. "Where is Flemeth?" he asked running his worried eyes across her. Solona looked at him, a half-smile appearing on her face.  
  
"She won't be a problem anymore," she answered, taking her staff from his hand. "Let's find that grimoire."

* * *

Ostagar was the tomb of the many through the ages, but now as the stark white snow blanket covered the ancient ruin, giving a shallow grave for the thousands of unnamed dead and memory of defeats. Alistair and Solona stood beside the pyre, watching as the former king and Warden-Commander's desecrated body had given back to the Maker. They listened to the threnody of Leliana that silenced the buzzing sound of the darkspawm around them. Solona sensed them all around, lurking in the shadows, watching them.  
  
"Thank you, Solona," Alistair whispered, his voice trailing off. "Even if I never knew my brother, even if I was just an inconvenience, a bastard, he was my blood after all. Giving him and Duncan a proper funeral... it means a lot for me."  
  
"I have three brothers, you know," Solona replied, and Alistair snapped his eyes on her. "I don't remember them. Two of them I don't even know. The youngest, Daylen, I remember he had blue eyes and corn hair like mother. I remember mother was weeping when the templars took him away. And I had never seen mother smiling again. Two weeks later father cut down her lifeless body from the old oak tree of the little glade near our home." Solona crumbed an unshed tear from her eyes. "I loved to play at that oak tree because I always heard my mother singing with the blowing wind. But that day, the day the templars came for me she didn't sing and the glade was silent. I lost her, my father, my home. The only left for me of my old life, my life before everything, are my brothers somewhere, in Circles across Thedas. And even if they don't know who I am, they have a little sister."  
  
Alistair grabbed her hand entwining their fingers. "Look at us..." Alistair chuckled, his voice dry. "The bastard prince and the troubled orphan mage. Waifs and strays who should save the whole world from destruction."  
  
"Ironic isn't it," Solona hummed with a soft hum. She tightened her finger around Alistair's hand, standing there in silence. Listening to the elven song Leliana sang, watched the flames waving high, telling her untold tales, secrets that only she saw or understood. And for a moment she thought she was in the little glade, hearing her mother soft singing brought by the spring breeze. The cold and dark ruins of Ostagar felt like _home_. "Alistair, I-"  
  
" _Shit!_ " Alistair broke his hand away from hers and reached for his sword. And the buzzing sound suddenly almost strained her skull.  
  
_There were darkspawn everywhere._  
  
Solona without hesitation reached for her staff and cast a fire circle around them, giving a moment of time to regroup. Leliana grabbed her bow and arrows and showered her arrows to the flooding hoards of darkspawn with the sharp hiss every time, all of them lethal. Sten without a second thought run into the lines of the monsters, slaying them without a second thought. Solona's fire spells burned them with awful shrieks. Steel hit steel, the heat of the increasing fire around them melted the white snow blanket into a blood-soaked mud.  
  
The element of surprise and was on the darkspawn's side but they were the lack of any plan or discipline. They were just craving for blood and flesh. Alistair and Sten had slain many of them but they seemed endless. Solona didn't know how long they fought in this chaos before Alistair brought his sword through the last of them. Maybe just minutes still it felt long and chaotic hours. As he pulled out the sword of the monster and wiped the black and thick blood from the blade turned to Solona and exchanged a relieved and victorious smile.  
  
But her eyes wandered behind Alistair and the huge towering shadow behind him. She saw the horns first when she tried to cast a spell but she couldn't. The fight exhausted her too much and she didn't have time to search for a lyrium potion in her sack.  
  
"ALISTAIR!" she screamed running to him and pushing him from the way of the ogre that grabbed her instead of him. The lifted to its face roaring on her, covering her with slime and saliva before with its full strength smashed her to a wall.  
  
Solona heard a crack then a long and deafening hoot before everything became dark and lukewarm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry but not sorry :)
> 
> Anyway, what do you think of the chapter? Don't hesitate to tell your opinion.


	25. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair brings Solona's unconscious body to the camp.

_It happened as quick as a thought._  
  
So fast Alistair didn't have time to react even. But when her body collided with the wall and fell to the ground like a lifeless ragdoll the time froze. His heart pounded in his chest, his breaths were quick and shallow. He heard her every bone cracking before the pulsating blood in his ear make everything silent. And the next moment everything became sharp and harsh and Alistair yelled with primal ferocity as he drew his sword and rammed to the darkspawn to its leg as thick as a log to knock it off its balance. He heard someone calling his name and the next moment saw the arrow swishing next to his head.  
  
The ogre took a step back but stayed on its feet. With one quick slash, he had severed the darkspawn's Achilles heel and sent it staggering. With a roar he slashed the other heel of the beast and made it collapsing. He was upon it before it could draw another breath, his sword making quick stabs in its body, once, twice, the Maker knew how many times until it was nothing else just a pile of dead flesh under him. But he just stabbed  it, again and again, roaring with every blow, until his whole body was covered with the ogre's blood. He didn't hear Leliana's screams begging him to stop. He didn't hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears. With the last blow, he decapitated the beast.  
  
Alistair between ragged breaths dropped his sword and rushed to the unconscious Solona, her blood painted the stark white snow into crimson. He fell on his knees before her, letting an anguished sob escape from his lips. His hands reached for her, hovering, afraid to touch her or move her.  
  
"Solona... Sol-" he sobbed, his voice was wavering and cracked. At last, he cupped her cheeks and smeared the virulent of blood streaming from her mouth. He barely felt her breathing and her skin was cold. She had always been warm.  
  
Leliana knelt next to them, touching the veins on Solona's neck. Alistair with an angry move slapped her hands away. " _Don't touch her!_ "  
  
"Alistair we need to bring her to Wynne, now!" but Alistair like didn't even hear her voice just stood there, her blood trickling down his hand. "Alistair!" Leliana tugged her. He took a beaten look on her not comprehending her words. "If we don't bring her to Wynne _now_ , she will die."  
  
"Go and alert her," Alistair whispered, his voice shaking. Alistair slowly, gently scooped her into his arms. She felt so light, so fragile. Alistair felt the tears burning his eyes, and the lump aching in his throat. He took the steps slow and cautious with her in his arms. His whole body trembled like every step would decide her life or death.  
  
"Maker if you exist or you have ever existed...I'm begging you..." he prayed as his forehead touched her and winced by the coldness of her skin. She had always been warm. As she reached the camp Wynne had already waited for them. Zevran opened the cuirass of Solona's tent and Alistair gently laid her on the bedroll. The blood still trickled from her mouth.  
  
Wynne kneeled before her unconscious body and ran her hands through her body. "Maker!" she gasped.  
  
"What?" Alistair asked.  
  
"She has severely injured. I sense several fractures," Wynne to Zevran. "Call Morrigan, I'll need her."  
  
" _NO!_ " Alistair burst out. "I swear if that fucking maleficar dares to touch her I will cut her open. I forbid it. Do you hear me? _I forbid it_. This is all her fault. I won't let her-"  
  
"She is the only mage here beside me and I can't heal her alone," Wynne's voice was calm and patient still uncompromising enough to make him silent. "She is dying, Alistair."  
  
Alistair sucked a deep and trembling breath trying to steel himself. "Maker preserve me, do it," he hissed before stood up and stomped out the tent. When he exited they changed a quick look with Morrigan. He wanted to kill her, wanted to cut her open, wanted to suffocate her, execute her the most painful ways he could imagine. But he just released a frustrated grunt and let her enter the tent.  
  
Maker knew how much time had passed. The time flowed with snail pace and with every passing minute Alistair's strides up and down became more nervous and desperate. He was praying, tried to slow his rushing thoughts, tried to not stomp into the tent to see if she had been alive or dead. He jumped to every move in the tent but nobody came.  
  
And after a time than seemed eternity Wynne and Morrigan came out.  
  
"Strange," Wynne murmured as shook her head in confusion.  
  
"What? Is she okay, is she alive?" Alistair rushed to them.  
  
"Her vital signs are normal but she doesn't wake up." Alistair's heart skipped a beat. "It is odder that I can't feel her magic. It doesn't flow in her like she wasn't in her body. Like it was just an empty husk."  
  
"Are you suggesting-" Alistair swallowed one.  
  
"We all know Solona is a _dreamer_ ," Wynne answered. "Maybe this was the only way to preserve herself."  
  
"Can we go after her?" Leliana inquired stepping next to Alistair, placing her hand on his shoulder.  
  
Wynne shook her head. "We don't have enough lyrium to perform such a ritual and none of us possess her abilities."  
  
"We could perform a blood ritual," Morrigan suggested. "One of us could descend to her."  
  
"Are you insane, Morrigan?" Wynne snapped. "Do you realize how dangerous this is? Solona was already fragile and who knows what she faces out there and who knows what would we invoke with such a ritual."  
  
"And who do you intend to sacrifice?" Alistair grunted. "Or do you even think she would agree on a ritual like this?"  
  
Morrigan snorted. "She isn't in a position to argue."  
  
Alistair closed his hand into a trembling fist and then slowly opened. His jaw clenched. He tried his best to keep his rage low, to not stab his sword through Morrigan. "And whose fault it is?" he hissed through his gritted teeth.  
  
"I never told you to go to Ostagar." Morrigan scoffed. "Do you think I'm happy with the situation? She was our better hope to defeat the Blight. And I wouldn't take the odds on an imbecile like you." Alistair felt his blood boiling, rampaging in him, clouding every rationality or humanity in him. "Maybe you should be the sacrifice. You are always so eager to rescue her. Maybe this is how you could fulfill your oath."  
  
"I will fucking kill you!" Alistair roared before everything became dark and, seeing only Morrigan, nothing else and the image as he broke her neck. He wanted to kill her, craved to do it like nothing else before. He wanted to see her lifeless body lying on the ground, his hand stained with her blood.  
  
Sten and Zevran could pin him down before he could have reached Morrigan. Alistair fought against them, tried to break free, hearing nothing else but the pulsating blood in his ears roaring to shed blood. He didn't hear Leliana begging him to stop, or didn't feel Wynne's coiling magic around him. He only saw a fragile bleeding body and another one on he avenged every pain, every humiliation he had ever had to suffer.  
  
Leliana cupped his cheeks and forced him to look at her. But he only saw two green eyes glassy and lifeless staring at him.  
  
Leliana slapped him and cupped his cheeks again. "Alistair, it doesn't help her. Please," she sobbed. " _Please_ ," she begged again. And the glistening blue eyes that suddenly became clear made him grow taut then his muscles relaxed. Sten and Zevran slowly released him and let him fall on his knees. "Alistair we need to move, we are running out of time. It is hard to say but-"  
  
"Then don't say," Alistair grunted facing the dirt under him. "If you expect me to leave her here like this as a prey for any trespasser you will be the second I will kill after I'm done with that fucking bitch."  
  
Leliana let a resigned sigh escaping from her lips before turned to Wynne. "How much time does she need to wake up?"  
  
"It is hard to tell. It only depends on her. If we are lucky only a few hours. But it can be days or weeks or in the worst case-"  
  
"She will wake up," Alistair cut the old mage. "She will wake up, I know, she has to," as it echoed back sounded like a desperate chant.  
  
Leliana forced Alistair to look at her again, looking deeply in his crisp hazel eyes, reddened by the flowing tears. "We need to go to Honnleath. We don't have days or weeks to waste."  
  
Alistair's eyes narrowed, his face hardened. He stood up and looked through his so-called companions. "I won't leave her here, and if any of you tries to drag me away can taste my steel," his voice was categorical before he turned on his heels into the tent.  
  
He sat beside her. With a tentative move, he swept some stray locks from her face. Her eyes were still closed, her lips still, and she felt so distant. She wasn't there. He felt her breathing, felt her pulse but still, she wasn't there. Alistair took her hand and exhaled a long desperate kiss on her cool skin and he winced.  
  
"Do not dare to leave me in this, do you hear me?" he breathed to her skin. He felt so hollow, so empty. Nothing mattered, not the Blight, not the others outside the camp. He would exchange everything he had, he would have let the world perish in darkness just to see her green eyes again.  
  
The opening of the cuirass disturbed his thoughts. Leliana stepped in and sat the opposite side of Solona. "Alistair..." she whispered, her voice trailing off.  
  
" _Her hands are cold._ Her hands have never been cold, they are warm like fire," he muttered.  
  
"Alistair," Leliana tried again. "Listen to me. We can't lose that much time. I'm not saying to abandon her, Wynne and Morrigan could stay here-"  
  
"I won't leave her alone with Morrigan," he burst out.  
  
"Alistair, be rational, please. You and she are the only Grey Wardens. In an opposite case, what do you think would she stay here or would she do her duty. The Blight won't disappear. You have obligations-"  
  
"I love her," Alistair sobbed.  
  
"I know," Leliana replied grabbing his free hand. "But you can't help her sitting here. You can't help anyone sitting here. Honnleath is a week from here. She may wake up by our return. She wouldn't let your emotions cloud your judgment. She wouldn't let you abandon your duty or break your oath."  
  
"You know nothing about her," Alistair snapped, freeing his hand from hers.  
  
"But I know you, Alistair." Leliana stood up. "I alert Zevran and Sten. You have ten minutes. Don't make me remind you of your oath the way you reminded her," and she left the tent.  
  
Alistair carefully scooped Solona's body in his arms, his lips caressing her forehead. He snuggled her to himself and prayed. To whom he didn't know. To every god from the Creators of the Dalish to the Maker and to the demons of the deepest holes of the Fade. He was willing to pledge loyalty to anyone who would have brought her back to him.  
  
"Alistair," he heard Wynne's wavering voice. "You must know that there is a not negligible chance that she may not wake up or wakes up but becomes-"  
  
"She will wake up," Alistair breathed against her skin.  
  
"Alistair, you must face with the possibility-"  
  
" _She will wake up!_ " Alistair yelled at the old mage so loud making her wince. "Your job is to keep her body alive until then." He gingerly placed her back on the bedroll but was hesitant to move away from him. But eventually, he did, threw open the tent flap.  
  
The bright light of the outside hurt his eyes as he heard voices calling out for him and slowly he saw the shadows of Sten, Zevran, and Leliana waiting for him. His legs felt like lead with every step he receded from the tent, from her.  
  
"Alistair," he heard that so hated voice. He needed his every willpower to try not to kill her again. "May I have the grimoire?"  
  
With a low grunt, he took out the tome from his backpack and threw it to Morrigan with his every strength. The witch was unable to catch and it landed in a pebble. Alistair stomped to her and grabbed her naked arm, tightened his fingers around her as much as he could and for a moment he could swear a glint of fear flashed in Morrigan's cruel, golden eyes.  
  
"Do you believe in a Maker, or in anything?" he hissed. "If you do pray for Him to bring her back to me because if she doesn't wake up I swear to everything that is sacred to me I will skin you alive and leave your remnants for the darkspawn and vultures to have a feast over you." and with a violent shove released Morrigan who landed in the mud.

* * *

Solona awoke in darkness, feeling submerged in emptiness and silence like she was sinking into deep water. Then had come the whispers, the barely audible murmurings of unseen beings that swirled around her. She could not see them but she knew they were there, like the spirits in the forests that hide behind trees as they stalk the defenseless, ever watching and waiting for a chance to make them their prey. She curled up, drawing her knees to her chest Her arms clasped tightly around her knees, she rocked slowly, focusing on the calming rhythm. She tried to not believe that she had suspected.  
  
"I'm waiting too long for you to wake up, little girl," the demon smirked standing over her. Solona sat up on her four, leaning on her hands, trying to ignore the boiling magic waving through her veins, bringing pain and tremors. The voices which were muffled whispers became loud cacophony now, millions of familiar voices she knew, loved and hated. They haunted her, accused her.  
  
She slowly got on her feet groaning in pain wondering if she had died. She remembered the ogre grabbing her and smashing her to the wall. She remembered the sharp spike of pain running through her spine before everything became dark an lukewarm, before she woke up there.  
  
Solona looked at her hand as opened it and the tiny flames revived in it as suddenly everything burned around her in a raging firestorm but nothing destroyed or even charred. The huge mirrors just reflected the light of the rampaging flames around her making everything dazzlying.  
  
Her blood boiled in her veins with magic that wanted to break free, tear her apart.  
  
She was alive. _She was in the Fade._  
  
For a moment the panic overwhelmed her let her magic flow in her so vigorously she cried out in pain and collapsed, breaking her spell, blowing the high tower of flames around her.  
  
"Careful, little girl, if you play with the fire it will burn you," the demon, tittered taking circles around her like the vultures over the dead and rotting flesh.  
  
"Who are you?" Solona wheezed as got on her feet once again. The demon wearing her face stopped before her with a wicked and sickening smile on it's face. She straightened and looked into it's green eyes, her own eyes the madness and bestiality blazing in it. It was her exact duplicate, her mirror. The demon smirked. Solona's legs shook in her primal fear but her face was like a marble statue, not showing anything of the frightened little girl she was inside. "Or more likely, what are you?"  
  
"To answer this question you should ask this question from yourself, little girl."  
  
"I am a Grey Warden-"  
  
"Are you?" the demon cut her. "Did you join to the Wardens willingly or you had no other choice? Do you want to stop the Blight because this is your duty? Or because you want to save people? Or only one? Foolish little girl. Do you think you would matter anything if he became a king? Do you think he would rise you his Queen against all law and tradition of Ferelden?"  
  
"I've never asked him to do." Solona riposted.  
  
"Because you are coward to even tell him your feelings."  
  
"To protect him."  
  
The demon laughed so loud the tall mirrors resonated it's voice. "No one can protect anyone. Let's try again. Who are you, little girl?"  
  
"A Circle mage."  
  
"Really?" The demon scoffed. "You were never one of them. You were better than any of them, more rebellious than any of them. They hated you and because they hated you, you hated them. You were an outsider. Even that Jowan one wasn't your friend you were just a shield for him to protect his sad and pathetic life."  
  
"Who are you?" Solona hissed. The demon began to circle her once again  
  
"I am the wish of a little girl silently weeped into the dark night. I am her deepest desire and darkest shame. I am her voice they wanted to silence over the years. I am what you should have been or you should be, little girl. I am you without the shackles they bound you." It stopped behind you leaning to her ears. "I am that you have ever wanted to be," it breathed hot breath on her skin still sending icy tendrils down her spine. "Free."  
  
"And what do you want?"  
  
"That I always wanted. Free you from your shackles," the demon's grin widened as closed the gap between them. "To make you what you are meant to be."  
  
"I left the Circle. I am free."  
  
The demon snickered. "You only changed your shackles to not so blatant ones. The taint in your blood, it is a death sentence. Killing you slowly, bonding you to the Order no better than the Circle was."  
  
Solona felt her magic rampaging, demanding to break free. It would have been so easy to kill it now. But before she could cast her spell the demon paralized her hand as if it knew her every thought. "You still don't understand, do you?" the demon snickered. "I am your mirror, your true self. You can't destroy me, little girl. The only thing you can do to play my game or die. But it would be such a shame spoiling my fun. I have been waiting too long to just kill you and have your body. So I have an offer," and with an elegant move the demon released her hand strode to one of the mirrors.  
  
"Let's play my little game, shall we, and you will have a chance to return to him. Actually, this is his only chance to survive. I found so delicate ways to use him and kill him." Solona roared but before she could cast her spell, she was paralyzed again. The demon walked to her and caressed the line of her jaw. She felt her every fiber shuddering by the touch.  
  
"Don't be so wraithful, little girl," it tittered sickeningly. "You may spoil the fun."  
  
The demon released her and Solona with a grunt collapsed to the ground. The demon, her other wicked self crouched down and grabbed her Solona's chin with a forceful move. "So are you playing?"  
  
"What will I find there?" she asked.  
  
The demon's wicked smile widened as helped her to stand up and led her to the mirror that swirled in cerulean. Solona took a tentative move reaching out to the mirror that sucked her hand.  
  
She had seen that mirror before, she realized. In her vision at Haven.  
  
"What will I find there?" she asked her demon self whose wicked smile became a snarl.  
  
"Only the painful truth," it replied and shoved Solona through the mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to be more frequent from now on.. but life can be a bitch :)
> 
> Anyway, thoughts about the chapter? Please don't hesitate to tell me :)


	26. Through Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona plays the game of the demon to find her way out from the Fade.
> 
>  **Trigger Warnings:** Graphic depictions of violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my dearest friends, the wickedly talented author and artist [Dehaxat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dehaxat/pseuds/Dehaxat) made this painting of Solona in the Fade and she is absolute stunning, beautifully captured her and made me so happy with it <3.
> 
> Also, thanks to my other one of my dearest friends, the also wickedly talented author and artist, [Ophiel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophiel/pseuds/Ophiel), to show me the perfect song for this chapter.
> 
> [Suggested Listening: Control - Halsey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=so8V5dAli-Q)

The warm summer sun shone down on the glade and the wind brought a familiar lullaby. All led back there. The glade with the oak tree. The little girl went there again, despite the strict orders of her father. He would have never understood. The spirit of her mother was there singing to her, telling her tales. She had always been happy there. She found there something lost, something dear and precious.  
  
The butcher's son promised to teach her climbing a tree. He promised to teach her stone skipping at the lake near Starkhaven. And her father promised her they would have watched the star falling together.  
  
She was making a flower wreath, made by dandelions and daisies yellow and white like her favorite dress she was wearing, as hummed the same song the trees whispered around her. She made the wreath for the butcher's son. The little girl liked him, his chubby face and warm brown eyes. He was a foot taller than she was. He was higher and stronger than the rest of the children in the hamlet. The girl's cheeks turned to pink as she thought of the boy and the moment when she would have handled the wreath to him.  
  
"What a lovely view," the demon snickered.  
  
Solona watched her younger self who was full of dreams and hopes, who didn't know the ugliness of the world or had only vague memories of it. The girls she had been before all this. "What is the meaning of this?" she asked the demon. "I know how it began. I relived it countless times in my nightmares. Do you think you can show me anything new? Do you think I hadn't played it in myself over and over again to understand what I could have done differently?"  
  
"Of course I know how you ate yourself night by night weeping yourself to sleep hoping you wouldn't see this again," the demon scoffed. "But here things are different. It can show how things could have been different, how your life could have been different. Aren't you curious, little girl?"  
  
"The past is past. It is pointless to think about how it could have been."  
  
" _Liar,_ " the demon yelled and Solona winced by her own twisting voice accusing her. "I know your deepest thought and dreams your fears and desires. I could show you how different it should have been. I could offer a different life."  
  
"Are you lost, lady?" the little girl's innocent and tinkling voice broke the demon's and it disappeared. And two innocent green eyes looked on her. Her own ones but brighter .  
  
"I'm not. In fact, I know this place from another life" she smiled as looked around. "What are you tinkering?" Solona asked.  
  
"A flower wreath for the butcher's son. It is almost Summer Solstice," Solona chuckled and remembered why she made that wreath, to ask the butcher's son, whose name she didn't even remember to be her flower knight in the festivities. "He is in late?" the little girl disgruntled.  
  
"His father maybe found some work for him. The sun is going down, you should go home, little girl," Solona wanted to scream at her younger self to run away to not stop until she reached Redcliffe and found an ash blond stable-boy. To run away together from the Circles, Templars, and Grey Wardens. Away from everything and everybody. But it would have been an illusion. A trap that the demon wanted her to walk in. "Your father must be worried by now. Go, he promised you to watch the star falling together,"  
  
The little girl looked up at her, the tears gathered in her eyes, reddening them. "They will take me away." Solona's heart skipped a beat and her throat grew dry. "I don't want to go with them. I want to stay here with Papa. They are frightening and they want to look me up in that Circle. Please, don't let them." the little girl wept.  
  
"I can't help you," she breathed sounded like a wail.  
  
" _LIAR!_ " the little girl screamed as jumped up sweeping the wreath away, letting to fall down and ruin. She stormed to Solona and shoved her with full strength. then again. The little girl was weak, Solona had forgotten how much. She hit, kicked her, as the fat tears trickled down her face. "Why you let them do this to me again? Kill them please, save me and Papa.  
  
Solona crouched and grabbed the little girls hand, feeling her quick pulse, the awakening and boiling magic in her veins, She felt the licking flames around her consuming the old oak tree, mutating the sweet lullaby the wind brought. And she heard nothing but the roaring of the raging flames the unmistakable cracking sound of destruction, she sniffed the scent of burning grass and flowers. The fire purified her mermory, the demon tried to twist. The fire had always understood her.  
  
"Look at me," she took the little girl's head between her hands, sweeping the tears out of her face the stray locks of the unbound braids of her ginger hair. "Everything will be fine. They will protect you in the Circle. The way your father can't, Little Poppy."  
  
The little girl stopped weeping, her expression shifted to something bone-shaking, untelling like a porcelain doll. "No one can protect anyone, "she said, her tone flat and mechanical. She freed herself from Solona's holding and strode into the sea of flames. The fire didn't harm the little girl, just embraced. until she vanished behind the high walls of, taking the glade away with it leaving nothing behind and Solona was falling into the endless void.

* * *

"The darkspawn are an evil that must be destroyed, it's true. Though not as evil as the birds... damnable feathered fiends!"the stone golem grumbled as they left the Imperial Highway and stepped on the narrow passage lead to the remnants of Lothering and into the Korcari Wilds. Alistair didn't hear any of the banters around him, just felt relieved they had finally reached those cursed wilds again.  
  
_Two weeks._

Two weeks had passed in the consuming unknown, in desperate praying and with more desperate fights. but as the eternal days had passed with snail pace. Nothing gave him ease. Not the killing, not the praying, not the certainty of his duty, nothing. Everything felt numb tasted like ash and had the stink of smoke.  
  
"She must have been waking up by now," Leliana stepped beside him. "I'm sure." Her understanding voice infuriated him but he couldn't tell why. She had kept telling this to him all the way to Honnleath and back again and the more he heard it the less he believed them. It should have been the last glimpse of hope something he could cling to but instead felt like a bigger lie every time it left her mouth.  
  
Alistair snorted. "She'd better be for her sake, for mine and for Morrigan's," he spat out the name of the witch as if it was rotten food on his tongue and his hand involuntarily wandered on the hilt of his sword. His eyes scanned the perimeter searching for the smoke of the camp puffing up, the ragged tents and maybe two jaded green eyes and stray ginger locks waiting for him to return.  
  
"Alistar, we have to speak about the possibility of-" Leliana's voice was uncertain, hesitating.  
  
"You, yourself said she has woken up," Alistair snapped. "You dragged me away from her to go to Honnleath for this pile of talking rock with the promise she would wake up," he hinted backward to the golem they found in Honnleath, who called itself Shale. It was nothing else but another unwanted companion.  
  
"You have responsibilities, Alistair, with or without her-"  
  
"Don't you dare to preach me about responsibilities, Leliana," Alistair thundered loud enough to silence the clattering forest. "You had left the Chantry for some hazy vision of yours. I've never forgotten who I am and never left my duty for some daydream."  
  
Leliana jumped before Alistair and stopped him. "And how so you would call Solona if not a daydream?"  
  
"She is my sister, my comrade I share the burden with, she is-" he bit the end of his sentence. "She is the only reason I want to end this blasted Blight. Honestly, I wouldn't mind if this whole mess  perished with the darkness, with the Chantry, the Templars, the nobles, and Monarchs, with all the dark secrets and rotting sins. This world gave me nothing and gave nothing to her but pain and loss," he burst out in a bitter and unamused laughter." Don't you find this ironic, Leliana? That your lives in pariahs' hands you always hurt and toss away like trash? Nobody needed me or her before the Blight. So pray to your Maker to wake her up, because you need her more now than ever."  
  
He gently tossed Leliana from his way and strode forward. "You... really... love... her..." Leliana's voice trembled. Alistair turned back to the bard.  
  
"I'm sorry, Leliana... but I do," he said as noticed the looming up female silhouette and Alistair's face brightened, but as he saw the old and jaded lines of Wynne and the resigned pain in her eyes the time froze around him. He rushed to the camp and tore the cuirass open and saw her lying there, guarded by her faithful mabari, sleeping in rigid stillness.  
  
_Two weeks had passed._

* * *

Chilling breezes woke her from her dreamless sleep. Her eyelids were heavy, the whispers around her allured her to stay like this. Staying there forever, tricking the game, leaving her body to die and decay. It would have been easier. Burn her soul away in the Fade, let her body die at the other side. But through the mist of despair, she heard a familiar voice echoing.  
  
In death, sacrifice. Wouldn't it be a sacrifice? To get the world rid of herself? Or, it would be just another chain? This time a permanent one. Even death couldn't set her free, she realized. Then why not live?  
  
She felt the calloused hand sweeping her hair away. She felt a familiar and fluid motion caressing across her chapped lips. And she smelled the familiar scent that was still hidden in a sane nook of her mind.  
  
"Alistair-" she breathed. It felt too false to not be real.  
  
"Shhhh," she heard the soothing purr. "It was just a bad dream, it wasn't real."  
  
Solona became wide awake by the familiar voice jumping to a sit on the cold mosaic floor covered with snow blanket. She saw a Templar sitting next to her, his amber eyes staring into the void filled with endless emptiness. His skin was like wax rigid and cold. She looked at the cloudless, starry night sky. The constellations were clear and bright. Everything felt still and unmoving, trapped in a frozen image of a memory.  
  
"It is interesting how similar they are. You definitely have a type, little girl," she heard her twisted voice and saw the demon towering over Cullen's frozen body. "Similar hair, eyes, they are both Templars. Well, sort of. They are both infatuated with you," it snickered. "Foolish men, they can be so easily manipulated by two pretty eyes."  
  
"What is your purpose with all this?" Solona grunted through her gritted teeth. "He thinks I am an abomination. He hates me."  
  
"He hates the idea you could become, not you. There is a difference. You said you are a Circle mage, didn't you? So you are exactly where you are meant to be with the Templar you are meant to be," her own cruel voice sickened her. "Didn't you have homesick, little girl? Didn't you miss your old hiding place? Didn't you miss gazing the stars?"  
  
"This isn't real," she hissed as looked at Cullen.  
  
"The truth is relative it depends on the lens through you observe it," the demon crouched next to Cullen's body and exhaled a soft kiss on the unmoving lips. "Reality is the question of relativity. A madman thinks the projections of his mind are real. A faithful thinks the subject of his worship is real. For them, these things are flesh and blood."  
  
The demon swept its eyes through the astrarium. "For you, this place is a prison, for him-" it beckoned to Cullen," -is a solution to keep this world safer. Are the Templars evil for locking up mages or they are heroes for protecting innocents? Are you evil for bearing magic or a victim because your gift stigmatizes you?"  
  
"For me, this world is fake, an illusion. Nothing more just a twisted game of a creature who wants to go where it has no place," Solona hissed.  
  
"This world can be as real as the one you live in. Even better. You are free here," the demon stood up from Cullen and smiled at Solona showing it's every tooth in a threatening snarl. "You loved Cullen, didn't you? In your own innocent way but you did. Well, he is not the soldier-boy but something you truly and deeply regret. And the question is if you have to hurt someone wouldn't be better him than Alistair?"  
  
Solona felt a spike of energy rushing through her body, charring her veins with raw magic. "I don't want to hurt anyone." she heaved.  
  
"Sadly, some things are unchangeable."  
  
She felt a feverish delirium descending on her. The falling cold snowdrops on her skin were tiny icicles tearing her open. She felt the cool stone floor under her touch heating, melting into lava. The sweltering torridity cracked the surface of the polished crystal dome and soon the drifting snowflakes mixed with glass shards. Frost and scorching hotness collided around her fighting their own battle, tossing everything into raw chaos, to an endless battlefield of the war of elements.  
  
"Solona," she heard Cullen vacant voice, filled with the intoxication of lyrium. His skin was still like wax, smooth and immaculate. The amber of his eyes pale, almost lifeless. "Are you alright?"  
  
_He was a lie, everything was a lie._  
  
"You are not real," she hissed and slipped backward jumping up from the hot stone floor. It glowed in angry yellowish heat under her, sublimating into the void.  
  
"It was just a bad dream," he said as stood up. His moves were ragged and rigid. "You are safe here, exactly where you are supposed to be." Cullen strode to her with slow and calculated steps. His hands were up in a defensive pose like he was afraid of her of what she was intending to do.  
  
 "You are not real," Solona muttered. "This place is not real. I'm a Grey Warden, fighting in the Blight with Alistair. That is real. He is real."  
  
"He doesn't love you, Solona," Cullen snapped still taking the steps toward her. "He is obsessed with you like I was. None of us loved you, we feared or worshiped you. You hurt him, burned him and eventually you will destroy him. You destroy everything and everybody. You are safer here; the world is safer if you stay here. This is where you belong."  
  
Cullen reached her and towered over her. Solona felt the consuming fire of fear surging through her, heating her skin, the flames licking her fingers and palm. The Templar grabbed her wrist. There were repressed violence, grudge, and primal fear in that motion. Those amber eyes suddenly filled with pain and rage. Cullen deepened his fingernails into her thin skin, shedding her blood. "I shouldn't have been clouded by lust, I shouldn't have craved for you, a fire made flesh, a plaything of demons," he grunted. "I should have been the guardian of the innocents, protect them from you. You destroyed everything I believed in," she felt lyrium creeping under her skin battling the raging fire of her magic, feeding it, trying to suppress it. She was burning inside. "I should have let Greagoir perform the Rite of Tranquility on you."  
  
His other hand rose to her throat, grabbing her throat. "I should have killed you with my own hand."  
  
Solona grabbed his strangling hand and he screamed. She felt his skin melting under her touch like the flame melting the wax of the candle. It trickled between her fingers, merged with her own skin. Cullen was vanishing from tissue to tissue, from sinew to sinew, among deafening shrieks until nothing left just a puddle of liquid wax on the hot stone floor.  
  
The scorching hotness won the battle; the ground brought torrid vibrations in the air.  
  
Solona brought her hands to her mouth in her horrid as watched the remnants of Cullen on the glowing stone floor.  
  
"This is not real... this is not real..." she repeated as receded to the giant wood door, her every step brought a new nest of fire on the surface. She stared her palm, the trickling wax on it, and then the astrarium as melted away, as the stone floor under her vanished. Her back collided with the wooden door but she couldn't get her eyes from the mesmerizing rampage of the flames. Her hands blindly searched for the handle as the flames crept closer to her, caressing her skin with silky hotness. The fire had always understood her.  
  
Her hand found the handle and pushed it down and she fell backward on the cool floor tiles. She kicked the door closed before the consuming flames could reach her. The room's air hit her heated skin with coldness. The place was dark, only the dim light of the giant mirror in the middle. The cracking sound of the destruction of the other side of the door sliced the silence of the place, the scent of burning wood flesh and wax penetrated even the thick barrier of the stone wall. She leaned against the wood surface of the door and watched the silhouette of her hand. her veins were smoldering, glowing in the dark as if burning lyrium flowed through her instead of blood. She didn't felt human anymore. She maybe wasn't even a human anymore. The trembles of shock rushed through her in uncontrollable and violent waves. Her back slid down on the wooden surface until she was sitting on the stone floor. She heard the echoes of cruel laughs creeping through the walls, mocking her with twisted amusement.  
  
"Are you having fun?" she breathed but no answer came just more laugh. "ARE YOU HAVING FUN?" she screamed, the end of the sentence faded into a wail. But her only answer was dead silence and bright cerulean light coming from the mirror.  
  
She stared the mirror but has no fortitude to get up. "No more games," she whispered and lay on the cold stone floor. "Just let's get over this." she wept. "You were right, are you happy now?" Everything was still and cold.  Only her own sobs echoed back on her. She was alone and lost. "ANSWER ME!!!" she screamed but again, nothing happened.  
  
She burst out in frantic cry it shocked her violently as curled into a ball. She knew this game, she knew what the demon wanted from her. She knew what she was supposed to do. Her hand searched for the obsidian dagger attached to her belt, the Zevran gave her. Solona gathered all her strength to sit up and watched the cerulean light dancing on the black surface. She was ready and at last felt the determination. she placed the blade over her smoldering veins of her twist and tightened her fingers around the hilt.  
  
A last deep breath, a final glint of determination and...  
  
_"Do not dare to leave me alone in all this."_  
  
Solona released the dagger and it fell to the ground, the metallic sound echoed from everywhere as if millions of crystal shards fell to the ground in the empty room and she snapped her head to the giant glowing mirror.  
  
_"Do you hear me?"_ it was Alistair's voice penetrating through the mirror. Her limbs were weak and heavy, the stupor in them brought the piercing of thousands needles but she got up on her trembling feet and with uncertain wobbling steps approached the swirling mirror.  
  
She saw herself on the other side in Alistrair's arms, unconscious and broken. She saw the burn marks peeking under his plain and tatty shirt as his hand caressed her pale and lifeless face.. She even felt the scent of sea biscuit and saffron. And a painful still relieved sob escaped her lips. Ir felt so close, so real and it was within reach.  
  
Solona stretched her hands to catch the moment to be there where she belonged but as soon as her fingertips touched the glass the image vanished and she saw an elf looking exactly like her. The elf she saw at Haven. They withdrew their hands in unison, Solona touched her rounded ears and saw the reflection doing the same.  
  
She was tired of these twisted games, her own endless madness.  
  
An uncontrollable scream shook her body as she crashed against the mirror.

  
"WHO ARE YOU???" she banged on the glassy surface. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME???" she hit the glass with her full strength again and again with frantic rage and desperation. But of course, she got no answer. But she just couldn't stop to crash glass surface which cracked under every collision until the ragged lines of ruptures abuted and the shards with clinging sound of the falling shards.  
  
"Wake up, Solona, I'm begging you," she breathed with her last strength as fell on her knees, her arms slid on the broken surface, the splinters of the remained glass carved deep and bleeding furrows on her arms. But she felt nothing. just watched the crimson virulent gathering in a pool under her.  
  
_It was over._  
  
With trembling hand reached for a bigger shard of glass and tightened her fingers around it, cutting more wounds on her skin. But she felt no pain. She felt nothing but desperate determination. her dark and sticky blood painted her clothes into crimson. It felt so surreal, the pool of blood trickling under her, hot and thick. It was like water rushing away, washing away everything.  
  
"Don't do this," she heard the so loved voice and the bleeding pain of her cuts suddenly reached her. She looked at him, the plain shirt he wore, it sleeves upturned. There was no scars, just immaculate skin, it was nothing else just another illusion. a cheap and pale imitation.  
  
"You are not real," she whispered feebly and turned away from him. Alistair crouched to her, propped her chin and drew her glance back on him.  
  
"Does it matter?" he breathed, his lips brushed hers. "I can touch you the same way he does, kiss you the same way, call you on the same names. We could be free here, away from the Templars, the Chantry, the Blight and the Grey Wardens, from everything and everybody. We could do anything we want."  
  
"This isn't real..." Solona sobbed and wasn't sure anymore who she wanted to convince or did she even want to convince anyone.  
  
"How could I make it more real? With the burn marks on my arm? The blaming witness of your madness?" Alistair or the creature masqueraded him swept away the falling tears from her cheeks. "What is you always saying? Alistair must live? You are his death sentence, not the taint. But he is too foolish and sentimental to see this. The only way to save him to stay here with me. I can give you anything you want just call me on his name," and he kissed Solona.  
  
She didn't protest or moved away just let herself succumb to it. She was too tired to fight back, to remind herself what was true or false. She wasn't sure of it anyway. The world became a twisted and chaotic mess through the lens of the demon. And she found it insane and beautiful.  
  
Solona deepened the kiss. It was really like Alistair was kissing her, the same gentleness and desperate violence, the same love, and hatred, the sweet and hot paradox making the whole world collapse. There was no true or false anymore, no pain, no sense, nothing that made her human.  
  
"No," she broke away. "You can give me anything except the only thing I want," she hissed. "You aren't offering freedom just the chains of an eternal illusion."  
  
She saw something changing in those hazel eyes and the next moment the creature grabbed her neck and smashed her to the ruined mirror, sliding her body up against the surface as it stood up. the remains of the scattered glass surface carved deep cuts on her back. She screamed, felt the piercing pain. It wasn't even remotely Alistair anymore, had his features, his face, his hair, his eyes but nothing else.  
  
But the demon had his strength as his firm fingers tightened around her throat and strangled every air out of her. "Fine," it growled. "If you want to do it the hard way, so be it, little girl." She felt the life leaving her, her muscles relaxing. She couldn't see through the illusion, she still saw Alistair through the stars that blurred her vision "You can't hurt me looking like him, can you? How pathetic you are. You have the power of the ancients and still, you are too weak to use it or give it to someone who could use it."  
  
Her limbs became numb and for moments her vision darkened. The grip on her throat became even more tightened. "At least fight against me, mortal." Alistair's voice thundered. But it wasn't his anymore. It was something cruel and unholy. Solona still held the glass shard in her hand. With her last strength stabbed it into the stomach of the creature and the fingers relaxed against her neck. She fell on her feet and almost lost her balance and collapsed. Solona twisted the shard in it heard the squishing sound of the tearing flesh.  
  
Suddenly Alistair's eyes looked back on her again, the warm hazel ones.  
  
"You are not him," she grunted and twisted the shard again. "And you'll never be me," with her other hand she cast an ice spell tearing it's chest open and crushed it's heart, feeling the last beats pumped blood.  
  
It felt like a rapture, a liberating wave of wind to take a life away. The smell of blood felt intoxicating bringing feverish delirium on her once again. It felt so unholy and beautiful as the hot crimson liquid trickled down her arm.  
  
The demon as Alistair took one last glance on her with a wide smile  filled with some kind of divine satisfaction before collapsed into her arms and brought Solona with it.  
  
And she only saw Alistair again, his rigid dead and white skin, the blood trickling from his mouth, harsh against the colorless skin. And for a moment she believed the illusion and screamed so loud and painful that it could have invoked every demon of the Fade. She ordered herself to wake up but nothing happened. So she laid on the corpse of the last illusion of the demon and wept, begged for Alistair at the other side to kill her, to be a good Templar and do his duty, hoping her voice can break through the Veil. But nothing happened.  
  
"Lying here won't solve anything, Dreamwalker," she heard the long-lost voice and looked up into the familiar hazel eyes, framed by wrinkles and the long blonde hair turning to grey. "You don't belong here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really distressing for me to write, 
> 
> Anyway. How did you like the chapter? son't hesitate to tell me :)


	27. Sacrifices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona is still in the Fade, and although she defeated the demon but can she find her way out from it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested Listening: Adna - Night

"You don't belong here," the crisp voice of the familiar shadow repeated stretching its arm toward the mage girl. Solona swept her eyes across the hardened figure being incredulous of the sight. The years carved ruthless lines around the hazel eyes, same to Alistair's, she realized. The grizzling blonde hair and beard invoked pleasant memories of a reckless and careless mage girl, just as the old and rusting dragon scale armor. It was an echo, an old mentor, an old friend. Solona found it interesting how the time of the Fade was working. Sometimes it felt frozen, the other decades rushed away in a few minutes. "You don't have much time left, Dreamwalker. Move," the thundering voice made her twitch.

Her reddened, tear-streaked eyes fixed on the figure standing before her. "No," she whispered as lay back on the corpse of the demon masquerading Alistair. The blood still trickled from the lifeless and colorless body, staining her with the hot and crimson liquid. The scent of blood blurred her thoughts. "Enough. Enough of the illusions, traps, enough of everything. I haven't summoned you spirit. So be gone at once, before I make you disappear."

To press her words she cast a fire circle around them. The flames sparkled in the unflinching hazel eyes staring her and her only answer she got was a soft and warm chuckle embracing her.

It kneeled next to her she felt his warmth radiating from it. Spirits always felt cold, a lingering shadow. "Oh, you've always thought I'm a spirit. And you were too young to understand so I left you in this belief. It was also flattering. The Spirit of Agility," Solona readied her hand for another spell. She felt rage and desperation and it fed the fire in her. She felt it burning inside, flickering between her fingers. She clenched them into a tight fist, deepening her nails into the skin of her palm, her hand trembled in pain and suppressed violence. The beast wasn't the demon the beast was within her and she couldn't control it anymore. The shadow was right. She didn't belong to the Fade but she had no place in her physical world either. She belonged nowhere.

The piercing hazel eyes ran across her as if it knew her every secret and every thought. "I also don't belong here but I don't belong to your world either. Not anymore," the shadow said as stood up from Solona and strode to the fallen obsidian dagger. "I made a promise long ago in exchange for my life. I fulfilled this promise thus I am here, hiding, lurking in the shadow, surrounded with the lingering echoes of my failures and regrets," its voice was the cadence hinting bitterness as took the black blade from the stone floor. Its eyes stick on the ebony surface, on the dim lights danced on the dagger, illuminating it.

Solona clenched her fingers and relaxed them again letting the burning flames to die away in her hand as she sat up and leaned on the splintered surface of the broken mirror. her head tilted as she stared into the void. "Blood defines us, Dreamwalker," the shadow broke the minutes of agonizing stillness as he turned to her again. Solona snapped her eyes on the well-built but aging figure. "Our destiny carved by our own blood. Mine led to rising and fall. To be the tool of dark purposes beyond you and I can percept or understand. The spirits and demons whisper your blood determines you to shake this world and change it forever. For good or bad I don't know. Great power comes with great responsibility. So get up and move. I won't tell you again, you don't belong here."

A derisive and disbelieving snort escaped from her lips as Solona shook her head as drove her glance back into the emptiness. "Do not dare to keep a speech for me. I've heard enough. I don't want this," she muttered. "I've never wanted this. Any of it," she heard the soft clanging sound of boots coming to her that stopped just before her. Her green glance met again with the warm hazel ones, hardened as ran across her and it handled the blade to her. Solona watched the black surface of the dagger as took it from it.

"Who was he?" the shadow asked as beckoned to the colorless corpse next to her. It wasn't bleeding anymore just became cold and rigid, decaying away. The pool under her lost it warmth and clotted into an almost black, sticky mess. 

"An illusion," Solona replied, her voice hardened, eyes still fixed on the shadow. "A promise, a lie, a purpose, a salvation, weakness, strength, love, hatred. Choose one." Solona taunted.

A soft hum escaped from the lips of the shadow, strangely familiar. "It is a pile of rotten meat now. Does it worth to cry over it until you wither?"

Solona bit her chapped lips until she felt the coppery taste of blood in her mouth and shook her head, hot streams of tears trickling down on her cheeks. "Then stop whining, get up and move." the shadow grabbed her arm and yanked her into a standing position and tugged her violently to shake up. "We have to find your way out."

And the shadow opened the charred door and the other side that once was her beloved astrarium now was a dark and endless corridor lead to nowhere but darkness. Solona raised her eyes on the shadow who with an unceremonial, almost rud nod signaled her to move. To press the gesture with a harsh pushed it tossed her into the darkness.

* * *

Alistair sat at her bedroll again. He stopped praying. Neither the gods nor the demons heard his pleading. Her head rested on his crossed legs and he caressed her hair. Her eyes were still closed, her lips still, and pale and her skin white, making her freckles more distinctive. Alistair sometimes brushed his fingers across them and winced every time by the rigid coldness of them. She was like a porcelain doll.

Lifeless. Unmoving.

But she was alive if nothing else but her breathing and pulse testified it.

 _She was still out there._ He knew.

_Two weeks._

Two weeks had passed. She was supposed to wake up by his return from Honnleath. And the time melted too fast. As a Templar recruit, he was aware what he should have done. But despite the louder and more impatient whispers of his companions and his every rationality told him to let her go. But he knew she was still out there, trying to find her way back. He couldn't even think about it. Maker had cruel tricks.

He couldn't count the times Leliana came into the tent and more and more impatiently reminded him of the ravaging Blight. Duncan would have left her behind. Giving her a final rest. Every Grey Warden would kill have killed her by now, the Templars much before. He felt hollow. Weak. Powerless. Coward. He looked at Solona’s still form and felt the hot stinging in his eyes and the tightness in his throat. The back of his hand brushed across the curves of her cheek. He leaned down and gently placed a kiss upon her cool forehead, his lips whispering prayers against her skin. He prayed for her. Maybe if no one else, she heard it through the thick barrier of the Veil.

"Solona, please, I'm begging you. Don't make me do it," he whimpered as his arms tightened more around her.

"Interesting. She is stronger than I thought," Morrigan interrupted his thoughts as sat next to them. Alistair with an instinctive and protective move pulled Solona's body closer to himself. "She didn't turn to an abomination but she didn't wake up either. She is strong enough to resist but isn't strong enough to come back."

"What do you want, Morrigan?" Alistair snapped. "You got that you wanted, didn't you? And this is so convenient, isn't it, getting rid of her. You didn't even have to begrime your hands. I bet you schemed this the whole time."

"You are more foolish than I thought if you think I wanted this to happen," Morrigan replied her low voice sharp, every word cutting his skin. "I'm here to help, you imbecile idiot. I would gain nothing by her death."

"Then get to the point, Morrigan or get the hell out of here," Alistair shouted. Morrigan was unwincing, her golden eyes fixed on the jaded Grey Wardens.

"The grimoire is useless to me if I perish in the Blight with the rest of the world. While you played war in Honnleath to get that talking pile of rock, I found something interesting in my mother's grimoire." Alistair snapped his head and an invisible smile appeared on the side of Morrigan's mouth. "But the question is, how far are you willing to go to save her."

Alistair frowned and involuntarily tightened his hands around Solona more, pressing her body as much as he could to himself. "What do you mean?"

"There is a ritual, older than the legends of this land. A ritual that helps you descend to her. But every ritual needs a sacrifice," a cruel glint flashed in the witch's golden eyes. "Needs to shed _blood_."

"I told you, I won't sacrifice anyone. There has to be another way." Alistair protested.

"Not every blood ritual demands life. It is similar to your ritual of Joining. Harrows your soul with the Fade." Morrigan replied, taking a knife in her hands. Alistair recognized it, it was Solona's obsidian dagger. "You can sit here and wait. But it won't bring her back. We need her, you and I both know. I offer you a way out."

"And what you would gain from all this?" he growled. "You do nothing magnanimously. Where is the catch?"

Morrigan snorted as rolled her eyes. "As I said, I intend to survive this Blight and unfortunately I need you, sentimental idiots to end it." with and urging move she tossed the blade to Alistair. "This is the only way to help her. And I won't offer it to you twice."

Alistair was hesitant but reluctantly reached for the dagger. And Morrigan's cruel smile became visible now and this made him shudder. It didn't feel right. "Cut yourself and let your blood flow into the goblet." the witch instructed him. Alistair took a half-frightened half-incredulous look at Morrigan before he closed his fingers around the blade and slid it through his fist feeling the black blade furrowed deep cut across his palm. He groaned as looked his hot blood trickling into the goblet.

"Good," Morrigan hummed contently. "Now do the same with her."

"What?" Alistair burst out.

"The Fade is infinitely vast and infinitely mutable. Do you want to find her? Then you will need her blood."

Alistair with a hesitant move took Solona's hand and exhaled a trembling kiss on it. "Forgive me," he breathed before he closed her fist and slid the blade across it. He winced to the voice as the dagger cut into her flesh and felt his throat tightening as saw her blood flowing into the goblet.

Morrigan took the dagger and the goblet and cut her own hand. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I perform the ritual. Consider it as my humble contribution to your love," Morrigan scoffed.

"Just shut up and do what you need." Morrigan took the blood filled with their blood and began to chant. Alistair didn't know the language but felt unholy and demonic. And as the rhythmical words left the Witch's mouth he could swear the air became cooler and the sun suddenly darkened. And it felt like they invoked every demon of the Fade to have a feast on them. And suddenly like Morrigan fell in trans she silenced and handled the goblet to Alistair.

He raised it to his mouth but he was reluctant to drink from it. The whole ritual felt so unclean. He heard whispers from everywhere, unintelligible whispers suppressing every other noise.

" _Drink it!_ " Morrigan ordered and with a swift move he brought down some blood. And the next moment everything became dark. and he collapsed like a ragdoll.

Morrigan took the goblet and drank the remained blood from it. "The pact is done."

* * *

"I smell the blood of the sacrifice on you, Trespasser. But you have no place here," Alistair heard the ethereal female voice as tried to open his aching eyes. His mind was hazy like alcohol intoxicated him, he felt the space spinning around him. He felt stupor in his limbs, millions of needles piercing him even at his tiniest moves. He felt as if he lay there for millennia still just as a moment rushed away since he collapsed in the tent. He lost the track of time as he tried to galvanize some life into his haggard body. There was nothing but pitch dark and coldness around him.

But in the darkness a primal shape began to emerge, darker than the blackness that surrounded it, bright and green eyes illuminating the swirling wisps that danced about its feet. Alistair had laid in the darkness for so long, that even the faintest light was piercing and made him raise his hands to shield his eyes. The vaporous shape morphed as it came closer, the form of a ginger haired girl with green eyes, freckles spotted her face. The sparkling crimson and golden gown she wore fluttered gracefully with her every step. As if the fire itself approached him, making everything brilliantly light.

With painful groans, Alistair stood, and met it’s gaze. He swallowed hard, his breath ragged in his chest. "Solona?" Alistair heaved as the illuminating figure became crystal clear. The girl smiled brightly as stepped before him. Dark eyeliner framed her green eyes, making them seem luminescent. Her lips were lush and stained with the color of the richest red wine. A green and golden headdress adorned her silky hair cascading on her shoulder. She was a mirage, a vision. Too perfect to be true.

She brushed her fiery locks away, so her pointy ear became visible."I'm not the Dreamwalker, Trespasser," she answered. Alistair took an involuntary step backward.

"But you look like Solona," he heaved. His eyes ran across the figure of the girl before him. "Who are you?" he whispered.

The girl closed the distance between them pressing her body to Alistair"s. She leaned to his ears. His body grew taut as felt the lips brushing his earlobes, feeling the smile widening. The intoxicating cloud of her scent made him light-headed, made his limbs weak. "Does it matter?" she asked as her fingers slid up his abdomen and chest. Her touch was warm and fiery, so familiar that he found himself feeling lost in it. "I have her blood, and she has mine. I am the raging fire as she is." Alistair was őetrified under her touch as her fingers skimmed up his torso, reaching his neck. It was warm like the embracing fire. It was her touch. Her fingers wandered along the line of his jaw. "We embrace you with the warm caress of flames," her nails suddenly deepened into his skin and furrowed deep and bleeding bruises on it. "And we destroy you with consuming blazes."

Alistair with a grunt pushed himself away from the girl. She was still smiled on him brightly, her green eyes illuminated. "We are your salvation and your nemesis,"

"You are not her. I don't know who you are but you are not her," it felt so hysterical and alien chant as his voice echoed back on him. The elf girl strode to him, stopping close enough that he could feel her fiery breath upon his skin. He backed against the wall, unable to move further away. His heart was in his throat, his breaths coming quick as his pulse raced.

"Why do you love her?" she breathed as her fingers trailed up the ragged lines of his burn marks. Alistair winced as the too familiar sense of touch hit his skin. "She hurt you, burned you, tossed you away more than once. She abandoned her duty. And still, you are always coming back to her like a good and loyal puppy." Alistair felt some strange primal fear rising in him as the sparkling green eyes looked up at him through the thick fan of lashes. "Why did you shed your blood for her. A part of you hates her, wants to hurt her. Craving to see the terror in her eyes, as she fears you. You want to see her suffer by your own hands," The burgundy lips reached his, brushing against them. "Love and hatred are the mirrors of each other. Only unconditional love can invoke the darkest and undying hatred," she breathed leaving hot vapor on his dry lips.

Alistair didn't realize he was shaking. He didn't realize the dark desire he felt for the touch of the elf girl before her. He craved to taste her and feel her. "You are not her," he chanted, his voice trembling, his weakening body fumbled against the stone wall.

The girl tittered. Her voice was rich and musical, and the sound of it made everything within him turn fluttery and warm. "Does it matter, little soldier-boy?" her arms crossed behind Alistair's neck and with a violent and lustful tug she drew herself to him as their bodies collided. And before he could react her lips sealed his. Alistair tried to resist, but his mind became hazy, intoxicated and before he could realize, his hands explored the delicate fabric of the crimson gown of the elf girl. Everything narrowed to them, darkened and he felt they were floating. As if he died and his soul wandered to the other side. Maybe he really died. Maybe Morrigan killed him with the ritual. It didn't matter, nothing mattered, just a pale illusion of something he wanted more than anything.

_"In death sacrifice..."_

He heard the too familiar voice of Solona, sending ice cold shudders down his spine. And he became wide awake again.

"No..." her eyes met Alistair's briefly in surprise before he slammed his palm against her chest, and she was thrown backward. The elf girl fell on the stone floor, her eyes filled with shock and terror. "I came for Solona and just for her." he drew out his sword and pointed it right at the throat of her. "Help me to find her or be gone," the sharp-edged end of the blade pressed to the delicate and thin skin of the girl.

She smiled at Alistair as stood up, the end of the sword followed her move. She no more showed any sign of fear or horror. "You have passed the test, Trespasser," she said, her voice smooth and silky, embracing him with warmth. Alistair felt the sword becoming lead heavy in his hand until he couldn't hold it anymore and lowered it. The girl strode to him and took the sword from his hand dropping it to the floor, the metallic clanging filled the suddenly very empty room with the echoes of cacophony. The elf girl turned Alistair's palm to herself and her finger skimmed across the scar the obsidian blade left on it.

"Blood is stronger than any magic, Trespasser. It connects you," she said, her voice felt fading. "Just listen to it singing for you and you will find her," she glanced to a door at the other side of the room before evaporated into the void leaving nothing behind but a lingering feeling of warmth.

Alistair took hesitant steps to the heavy oak door. His hand rested on the handle for long minutes before he pushed it down and it opened to a dark and seemingly endless corridor. The words of the elf girl echoed in her mind as he stepped into the darkness. He closed his eyes and took the steps blindly. "Talk to me, Solona," he pleaded and his feet lead him on the way.

_He could feel her._

* * *

"This is pointless," Solona grunted as the slowly progressed through the dark and narrow corridor. "We are wandering aimlessly."

Solona tried to ignite a tiny flame in her hand for a thousandth but as soon as it morphed with a scream she blew it out. This time she was able to avoid collapsing, but the piercing pain still sent tremors across her body. Her breath became ragged and erratic. The shadow ran to her and with a violent shove shook her up.

"Blast it, Dreamwalker," he yelled as tugged her once again. "Do you intend to wake every demon up at this part of the Fade?"

Solona's eyes stuck on the angry red burn mark on her hand, the blisters rising "This can't be," she muttered as her glance fixed on her trembling hand. "The fire... it always..."

Her unlikely companion roughly grabbed her wrist to examine the bruise on her palm. He touched the oozing bruise with his gloved hand and the mage girl screamed again as her limbs sagged under her. The shadow could catch her from falling in the last moment. "You have only a little time left," he stated as dropped his hand with a violent shove. "So we should proceed."

Solona embraced herself as took the breaths deeper and deeper but nothing was enough to feel her lungs with air. She leaned to the slimy and cold stone wall and slid her back against it until she hit the floor. She watched her hand as the burnt flesh suddenly became separated as a deep cut divided it, shedding her blood. Solona screamed again as the pungent pain ran across her body. "What is happening to me?" she heaved as her blood trickled down from her palm in a rushing virulent. The shadow crouched next to her and took her hand in his once again.

"Maker, this is _real_ ," his voice filled terror as reached for the edge of his shirt and wrapped her bruised hand with it. but the trickling blood soon soaked the tattered linen.

"What do you mean this is real?" Solona asked, her cadence spiced with panic. The shadow's eyes hardened as he stood up and grabbed her too under the armpit pulling her a standing position. Solona felt herself weak but something tingling shivered down her spine and her nostrils suddenly filled with a familiar scent.

 _Sea biscuit and saffron_... it can't be...

"Alistair-" she murmured with dying voice as the scent became stronger, mixing with the even sweeter scent of blood. coming from her cut. She felt the whole place spinning around her, and her legs sagged for a moment before the shadow caught her again from falling. She felt her thoughts and mind drifting in the void far away from where she really was. "Am I dying?" she asked.

"We must keep moving, Dreamwalker," the shadow urged her and tugged her body to wake her. But Solona just shook her head as her limbs finally gave up and she slid from the arms of the shadow and landed on the stone floor. She rested her weight on her trembling arms and stared the floor as her blood stained the it trickling from the rag around her hand. She heard the whispers again slipping into her thoughts and she felt no pain anymore. They told her sweet things again, things she craved to hear them.

"Solona," he heard a too well-known voice crying out in desperation and soon after a body dropped next to her, and a hand gently lead her glance on him. She was beyond anyone's reach and her eyes met its as a stranger. And the next moment she stumbled backward until the wall hit against her back.

Stay away from me, demon! I'm warning you!" she screamed she whisked her hand casting a fire spell and setting everything on fire around her."You won't fool me again."

The fire crept closer around them, swirling like a storm. The creature stood up, held out his empty hands and stepped slowly towards her. "It is me, don't you recognize me?" it said gently. "I've come here to bring you home."

" _Liar_ ," Solona screamed and the fire darted even higher around them. But the creature was unflinching, taking the steps toward her.

"She is lost, boy, the Fade has swallowed her," the shadow stated as reached out for the creature looking like Alistair, but it just shook off the reaching hands from its shoulder. "Don't be a fool, She'll kill you."

"No, she won't," the creature thundered. "She would never hurt me."

"You are not him. You are not real, this isn't real," Solona murmured a desperate chant as pressed herself against the wall. The creature reached her and kneeled down. It reached for her cheeks and drove her glance until their gaze met. But she was beyond anyone's reach and her eyes met those hazel ones as a stranger. She felt the fire creeping on them, burning her skin, leaving hot red marks on her skin.

"I am _real_ , Solona, you know me," the creature cupped her cheeks and forced him to look into those crisp hazel eyes. "You have to believe me,"

"Show me your arms," the creature searched her eyes. In his hesitation, she screamed her command again and the flames darted even higher before, licking their skin. The creature tore the shirt open over its forearm and Solona sobbed painfully to the releaving sight of the burn marks entwining the lean muscled arm and the flames around them slowly died away. Her eyes saw him as if for the first time.

"Alistair, Alistair, Alistair-" her voice cracked and eventually died away in a frantic cry. Her body shook in violent tremors to every painful sob. Alistair slipped to her and closed his arms around her his lips brushed her forehead in a gentle kiss.

"It's okay, I'm here. I'll take you home," he breathed against her feverish skin.

" _Alistair?_ " the shadow heaved in surprise and its knee sagged for a moment. Alistair's eyes meet the shadow's for a moment and his own looked back on him. "It can't be..."

Solona suddenly slammed her hands against Alistair and shoved him away from her. "Alistar, you can't stay here. You have to wake up," she grabbed him by his shirt and shoved him a bit. "You have to wake up," she repeated.

"No," Alistair stated as his hand closed around the nape of her neck to draw her close again. " I made a pact with the devil herself to descend to you." Before she could say anything he sealed his lips with hers to silence her. "I don't care about the Blight, Solona, I don't care if the whole world perishes away, but I won't leave you here."

Solona moved his hands away from her neck and placed it on her lap closing hers around it. She felt the trickling tears on her cheeks. She looked on Alistair feeling her heart thudding. "What is the oath of the Wardens?" her voice cracked.

"Solona, please don't do this-"

"What is the oath of the Wardens, Alistair?" she asked again her voice trailed off by her urge of cry. "Remind me once again."

Alistair hugged her, close to himself, felt her warmth. Oddly, this somehow filled him with comfort. "In war victory. In peace vigilance. In death-" he couldn't finish it. "Please, Sol-"

"In death?" Solona was adamant.

Alistair swallowed one. He remembered he had said the same exact words to her. "In death, sacrifice."

Solona nodded and felt the hot tears, she didn't even try to wipe them away. Something broke in her and she pressed a last long kiss on his lips. "In death, sacrifice," she whispered. "Promise me to kill me after you return."

"Sol-"

"Promise me, Alistair," she cut him as her hand smoothed down on his cheek. Alistair nodded his head to an uncertain yes.

She hugged him, her lips at his ears. "Wake up," she breathed

Alistair evaporated from her hands leaving nothing behind but a fading echo screaming _no_. She watched her hands that a moment ago had held him and she wanted to cry but she couldn't. She felt hollow as if the whole world collapsed around her and there was nothing around her but the endless emptiness. She felt nothing but coldness around her. Heard nothing but her own erratic and stinging heartbeat.

The shadow stepped next to her and placed its hand on her shoulder. "Were the two of you close?" it asked.

Solona looked into the void, her eyes were glassy. She felt drifting. She felt everything falling to pieces around her. She felt nothing but the consuming pain in her chest. "We could have been. In another world, where is no magic. where are no ru-" The revelation was like lightning strike making her wide awake again.

_"There are no rules in the Fade."_

* * *

Alistair opened his eyes and felt a dull pain in his limbs. He sat up quickly, his ears ringing. He spun on his knees, crawling madly to her. He grabbed her hand, pressing it to his lips as he raised himself to his knees at her side. Eyes closed, as before, her touch ice cold, and her skin milk white. It was useless. He performed the ritual for nothing. Tears were stinging his eyes and threatening to spill over. He swallowed hard and held them back. In his last desperation, he grabbed the two side of her shoulder and shook her.

" _Solona, wake up,_ " he cried out, not caring who would hear it in the camp. "Wake up, _wake up_ , WAKE UP!" he screamed until his voice grew hoarse. But nothing happened. she lay on the bedroll lifelessly. Alistair collapsed on her chest and burst out in a hysterical cry. He didn't know how long he lay there, among his tears and the deafening silence of the forest, their companions didn't come. He was alone with the burden of her last promise.

After a time felt like an eternity he sat up and reached for the obsidian dagger, lay in the dirt, the blade still stained with their blood. He hesitantly reached for it and took her hand the veins of her wrist facing to him and placed the dagger over it. He gathered his every determination to slid it across his skin but his will never turned to an action.

 _"There was a stir within her blood_  
_And the dreams lay thick upon her._  
_A call did beat within her heart._  
_One road was left before her."_

Alistair recited the farewell of the Wardens before took one last breath and-

A choked scream stopped his move that followed many ragged and shallow breaths. The dagger fell from his hand and rushed to her.

"Alistair-" she heaved as her respiration calmed. Softly, he brought his lips to hers and gently kissed her, breathing her in, relishing the sweet feeling of the strong pull between them that had been absent for too long.

"I knew you would come back to me." he breathed. Alistair's forehead met hers and he brushed his fingers through her hair. The first golden rays of the sun shone on them through the breaches of the cuirass. And the two could do nothing else but cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She is finally out of the Fade. I know it is vague how she managed it. Are you interested? :)
> 
> Please tell me your opinion about the chapter. I'm dying to hear it :)


	28. Snowdrop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona has woken up from her long slumber and tries to coop with the lingering mementos of her dreamwalk.

Solona stared the wide scar across her palm as they set camp at the foothills of the Frostback Mountains. Alistair and Wynne kept their watchful eyes on her to make sure she needed to do nothing and when it was possible they kept her out of the fight. Zevran also suspended their training and urged her to rest as much as she was able. They treated her like she was made of glass or porcelain. She hated their pretending. At least Morrigan showed her true face.

She sat in her tent with Leliana who gently brushed her unbound hair after a thorough wash in the near hot spring lake, cleaning every dirt and dried blood from her hair. Solona stretched her fingers and took her breaths deeply to concentrate her flowing energies. She felt the spell forming in her hands, the pain spiking through her limb sand sent tremors across her body.

"I... have I ever told you I really like you wear your hair?" Leliana's soft musical voice shook her out from her concentration and the flames died out from her hand before they could even come to this world.

"What...?" Solona blinked as clenched her fingers again.

"It is very nice and it suits you. Simple, not like those elaborate hairstyles we wore in Orlais," she giggled carelessly. "They involved flowers, ribbons, jewels-"

"You don't have to do this, Leliana," Solona cut her off, maybe a bit harsher than she intended. "I'm fine, and I don't need nursing. There is no need for this... pretending."

"It's not a _pretending_ ," she murmured as began to braid her locks. Solona looked behind over her shoulders to take a glance on Leliana. "I'm just trying to be kind here, like everyone else. You must have gone through a lot and it is admirable that you returned safe and sound."

Solona burst out in a sarcastic chuckle. "Is it now?"

"You've never really given up," she continued. "You came back even after everybody had given up on you. Except Alistair of course," some bitterness slipped into her voice.

"It was _Alistair_ , who brought me back," Solona answered as she glanced back on the scar on her hand. "He came after me... he called me until I found my way back."

* * *

_"There are no rules in the Fade." Solona heaved as looked on the shadow's questioning hazel eyes. " **I** make the rules here," she jumped up, though her feebleness made her knees sag for a moment but the shadow caught her before she could fall again._

_"Dreamwalker, you have very high fever. Whatever you are planning-"the shadow took a deep trembling breath. That was the first time the cadence of it had shown any hint of worry for her. "-do it **fast**. I doubt you have any time left."_

_Solona nodded and placed her bruised hand on the slimy and cold stone wall. It felt a strange relief onher burned and abused skin. Her eyes shut close and let her energies flow in her unhindered. It was like the same like when she had descended to the Fade. She was drifting in the void feeling everything was changing around her. She felt the surface of the wall morphing under her touch becoming something new, something rough with the sense of wood._

_" **Wake up-** " she heard the voice of Alistair brought by a pleasant and cool breeze to her._

_She opened her eyes and a sturdy wooden door appeared before her._

_Solona's hand was hesitant on the handle of the door and her unsure glance wandered on the shadow. It nodded with a clamant motion. The command that the breeze brought to her became even louder. Solona pressed down the handle and with a creaking sound it opened. She had wandered so long in the dim light of the corridor that the sparkling sunshine of the other side was blinding. She raised her hand to her eyes as a shield and the scene of the other side slowly became clear._

_Her first steps were uncertain on the soft grass toward the well-known oak-tree, to the ginger haired girl sitting at the base of it, making the flower wreath for the butcher's son. The little girl raised her green eyes to the approaching Solona and her lips turned to a cheerful smile._

_"You came back," she jumped up and rushed to Solona embracing her with a tight hug._

_Solona lowered on her knees and closed her arm around her younger self. "Everything leads back to here, to you," she whispered as smoothed the fiery looks of the little girl that ended in two braided pigtails. "But I can't save you, Little Poppy. You have to go with the Templars. I cannot change the past."_

_"I know," the girl replied, her voice trembled with crying. "You have to leave me and Papa behind."_

_" **Wake up-** " she heard the more urgent and desperate order again._

_"Dreamwalker-" the shadow stepped to Solona, yanking her up from her younger self. "Whatever you had done it brought some attention." And it signaled backward the swirling darkness towering in the horizon. "Those are fearlings." Solona felt the darkness and cold creeping on her, and suddenly the sun hid behind black storm clouds stealing away the vivid colors of the summer._

_The little girl grabbed her hand and pulled her away from her companion. "Come with me," she urged her. The shadow nodded to her to follow the little girl as he drew out his sword from the chaos in the distance slowly got formed and saw herself facing her, eyes smoldering in madness and a high firewall towered behind it, painting the grey clouds into red and orange and changing the green and peaceful glade into a blood-soaked battlefield._

_"Get the hell out of here, **NOW!** " the shadow shouted at her. The little girl's tug was stronger on her dragging away from her unlikely companion. "Dreamwalker... Solona..." it cried after her. She stopped and looked back on it. "That boy, Alistair... tell him... he has never been forgotten..." tears gathered in the crisp hazel eyes. Solona hesitated for a moment, searching for something in the hardened glance of her companion. " **MOVE!** " it yelled and she felt the urging pull off the little girl drawing her away from the shadow._

_They ran across the green sea of the unripe weathears, chased by the raging firestorm. Solona has realized to where they were running, still her legs stumbled as the almost forgotten scene loomed up on the horizon. The first she noticed the terracotta tiles on the roof, two of them were broken. The whitewashed walls, one of them covered with ivy, and the blue door and window frames. They approached the little back garden where her father always spent his afternoon rest with reading and smoking his old and dingy pipe._

_As the sitting figure on the old wooden bench became clear her heart skipped a beat. He was older than she remembered. The kind slate eyes were framed with the uncompromising traces of time and the once ebony hair had turned to grey. The hands that held a tattered book the ones once had held her strong and steady became skinny and shaky._

_Her steps became unsure and cautious as she passed the white wooden fence of the garden. The man glanced at her and the thin line of his lips turned to a bright smile._

_"Here is my Little Poppy" he beamed, his voice hoarse from too much smoking._

_"Papa," Solona sobbed as rushed to her up dropping her arms around his neck into a tight hug. The heavy years of absence suddenly fell upon her and as she buried her face into his chest, filled her throat with burning pain. She could do nothing but cry by the touch of her long lost father, her tears soaked his shirt.  Even alistair's more and more urging order became silent for a moment and she felt she could spent the eternity like this, in the arms of her father surrounded by the forgotten scents of her home._

_"You became such a beautiful young lady, my dearest," he hummed as his hand propped her chin and drew her glance on him. His other hand swept the streams of tears from her cheeks, adjusting her stray locks fell into her face from her half-undone bun.. "I wish we had more time. I wish we had all time of the universe."_

_"You aren't **real** , are you?" she sobbed. The man smiled and was about to answer when the roaring sound of destruction had reached them and so long waited answers and promises died away with it. He grabbed her hand and with her younger self, they rushed in the house._

_It was darker and more little than she remembered filled with the smellof aging books and well-worn furniture. A tall mirror stood in the middle of the small parlor, the same she destroyed in her desperate madness. Her father drew her to himself and closed his hands around her face. "You have no time left, Little Poppy. Maker, I wish you had but one more second here and you won't able to go back. I wish I could keep you with me, but you have no place here. **Touch the seeing glass** ," he commanded. "And whatever you see in the mirror or hear behind you, **do not turn or look back**."_

_"But-," the man pressed a fatherly kiss on her forehead._

_" **WAKE UP-** " she heard Alistair's command again. It felt so loud the whole place quaked, and cracks appeared everywhere on the wall, hot and angry lava billowed through them._

_"Don't turn back or you will be stuck here forever," he said before he released her gently shoving to the direction of the mirror. Solona slowly strode to it seeing her reflection morphing into the elf girl again, her own green eyes looking back at her. Behind her the erupting lava cornered her father and her younger self, creeping on them, melting everything into a chaotic and smoldering mess. " **Don't turn back,** " he heard her father's voice dying away into an agonizing shriek._

_Solona looked on the reflection of her elf self, the satisfied smirk at the corner of her burgundy lips. She was reluctant to touch the smooth surface of the glass and her fingertips ghosted over it for agonizing seconds listening to the sound of destruction and death behind her._

_" **WAKE UP-** " she heard once again, this time turning to a painful sob._

_She touched the mirror that suddenly began to swirl in illuminating cerulean brightness sucking her hand in. She heard her younger self screaming in agony and she was about to turn back._

_" **GO!"** the little girl breathed with her last strength._

_Solona stepped into the bright chaos of the mirror and suddenly everything became dark and she only felt cold and pain._

* * *

"You should rest, my dear. You are still very weak." Wynne scolded Solona in her usual soft and motherly tone as she entered the tent, a bowl of freshly made elfroot balm. The old mage sat down next to her, gently peeling her out from her plain shirt and smoothed the ointment on her remained bruises. It smelled medicinal and made her scrunch her nose. Their eyes met with the old mage and they both smiled feebly."We will reach Orzammar by two days. You are healing faster than I thought. There will be some lingering pain in the next few weeks but I expect you to have a full recovery. A few days and your remained scars will disappear and nothing will be left to remind you of this... unfortunate incident."

Solona stretched her fingers again to make her scar visible as a question formed on her tongue but she wasn't sure that wanted to hear the answer.

Leliana had finished braiding her hair and began to twist into a practical bun. The bard hummed a soft lullaby as she worked on her unruly locks, fixing them with hairpins and leather bands. Leliana's moves were practiced and fluent with her hair but as Solona hissed as she accidentally pulled her her locks stronger than she intended she dropped the braided pigtail in her first startled surprise an it fell over the Warden's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." the bard apologized.

"For the fucking sake of Andraste, don't nurse me," Solona burst out as she jumped up from the bedroll, pushing away the bowl of elfroot balm, that spread across the bedroll in a few seconds, filling everything the stench of medicine. "I'm alive and breathing, I'm all right." Leliana and Wynne sit there baffled as she rushed out the tent, across the camp, into the woods.

Her legs brought her farther and farther away among , her legs slumped into the snow, slowing her away, until her legs, which weakened during her long slumber, gave up the fight against the white and frozen blanket of the winter and she fell on the ground. Soon the coldness soaked her clothes and hit her skin with frost. The goosebumps spread across her skin as quick as a thought and her red lips soon turned to blue. Solona stretched her fingers and concentrated her energies and she felt the warm flames morphing in her hand as well as the pain rising in her, burning her skin.

"Solona," the tender but hesitant voice of Leliana called her and the fire had died away from her palm as well as the piercing pain that sent tremors down her body without her realizing it. "We are just worried-"

"How bad was it?" Solona asked squelching her as clenched her fingers.

Leliana crouched to her as put the fur-collared cloak of Solona on her back, and with an understanding motion slid her hand down her back. "It was dire. Most of us had given up on you and wanted to kill you before you turn into an abomination. But not Alistair. He just kept telling you would wake up. And you did. He-" Leliana swallowed back something. She looked away for a moment before returned her glance on Solona and plastered a tender smile on her face.

"Explain this," Solona demanded as showed the scar across her palm. Leliana winced as her eyes trailed the line dividing her skin. The bard closed the hand of the Warden, folding it with hers.

"Only _he_  can give the answer to this," Leliana breathed a yellow glint appeared in her sapphire eyes.

Solona pulled the cloak closer on herself as the uncompromising cold spread across her body, painting the end of her fingers into ice-blue, making them dull sensing Leliana's touch. Her body shuddered and her hot breath filled the air with white vapor.

"Maker, Solona, you are freezing," Leliana exclaimed as realized her shivers. The bard moved her hands up and down her arms to bring some warmth into her chilled body. "Summon some fire to warm yourself up," Leliana suggested but Solona just shook her head as an answer, as a glint of fear flashed across her green eyes. "Then quickly, let's go back to the camp before you freeze to death." She helped the Warden standing up from the ground, still brushing Solona's arms with her hand to bring some warmth to her as they slowly strode back to the camp.

Leliana gently led her to their tent and made her sit on the bedroll. The bard peeled Solona out her wet clothes that were soaked with slush and brought her some clean and dry ones to change, a tunic made of the finest Nevarran silk and soft black leggings, the handiwork of the Dalish with gold leaf embroidery. They were Leliana's she realized. "I can't-"

"All of your clothes are dirty, torn or soaked," the bard cut her in categorical tone as searched for something in her backpack. "And you can't walk up and down naked. Though I would love to see Alistair as his face turns to scarlet red. Not that he doesn't turn scarlet red every time he sees you," Leliana giggled, her voice was kind, almost caring, but still something bitter still came through it. Solona with a hesitant move reached for the garments and put them on, adjusting the pleats of the tunic before placed her Antivan leather belt around her waist. Her eyes stuck on the obsidian dagger for a moment attached to it and then her glance wandered on her scar again.

"Here, drink this," the bard ordered as handled a canteen to Solona. She suspiciously sniffed into it and coughed as the strong smell of alcohol hit her nostrils, bringing tears to her eyes.

"What the hell is this?" she heaved.

"A fruit brandy from the Free Marches," Leliana answered. "It will warm you up. The last thing we need now you catching a cold. So drink it." Solona lifted the canteen to her mouth as cast an unsure glance on Leliana before took a sip from it. As the strong brandy flooded down her throat burning it, she felt the alcohol spreading almost bursting heat through her body, making her light-headed. She coughed and gagged as felt her body was rejecting the brandy, but eventually, she managed to swallow her urge of vomiting.

"This is better than any medicine Wynne can give you," Leliana stated as took back the canteen into her backpack. Solona felt the brandy hazing her mind, and the world suddenly began to spin around her, her limbs became unsteady. Leliana caught her before her legs stumbled. She shook her head to clear her vision and make stop the tent spinning around her.

"Solona," Leliana began as touched the back of her hand on her heated cheeks. "You did drink before, didn't you?"

The Warden shook her head, her eyelids heavy. "It was forbidden in the Circle," she muttered.

Leliana giggled as placed her lying on the bedroll. "Well, in that case, you shouldn't begin with Dragon's Breath," the bard brushed away some stray locks from her face that ended in a soft caress on her cheek. "You should sleep a few hours to clear your head," Leliana whispered.

Solona nodded as her eyelids slowly shut down. "Thank you, Leliana," she breathed before the drowsiness conquered her.

* * *

The night had already fallen on them by the time she woke up. Leliana was sleeping on the bedroll next to her, only the dim light of the campfire, infiltrating through the cuirass of the tent, lit her face. Solona stood to stretch his limbs. The cold ground had brought an ache to her legs. She exited the camp and went to the fire to warming her hands. Her glance lingered on the dancing flames that as usual, told her untold stories but since she had woken up she was afraid to listen to it. She ghosted her fingers over the campfire, feeling as the flames flickered against her fingertips. She stretched her fingers again and felt as the blaze came to life in her hand, felt it pulsating in her hand in unison with her own quickening heartbeaat. And she felt the pain rising in her again.

"You should sleep, Solona," she heard the soft calling of her name. "We will reach Orzammar soon."

She drew her glance on Alistair as clenched her fingers and blew out the flames. "I've slumbered for two weeks. I'm not sleepy," she said as slowly strode to him. She sat next to him on the bedroll, her eyes fixed on the campfire. "What about you?"

"We're guarding the camp tonight with Zevran," he said as looked on the elf assassin whose head was dropped back against the bole of the tree, his mouth was opened and low snorts escaped from the back of his throat. "Well I'm guarding the camp,"

Solona couldn't help but a soft chuckle escaped her lips before they fell into silence again, staring the cracking flames of the campfire. From time to time her glance wandered on Alistair but she avoided eye contact with him. They hadn't really spoken eye to eye since her awakening. Although she wanted to tell him many things but the words had always stuck on her tongue. She wanted to reach out for him and kisshim, breathing ' _thank you_ ' in his mouth for milions of times, wanted to ask about the scar on her palm, wanted to confess him everything, but it was easier to stay silent and not to get the answers she was afraid to hear.

"The Deep Roads will be tough," Alistair interrupted her thoughts. "I'm not sure you should come down with us. You are still-"

"I'm all right," she cut him, stealing a glance on him, their eyes met in halfway. "I'm all right," she repeated, not being sure who she really wanted to convince. Alistair forced a half-smile on his face before drew his glance on the campfire again and the silence embraced them again.

"Solona," Alistair said after a time. “Care to take a walk with me?”

Solona frowned. "What about guarding the camp?"

A soft chuckle escaped from his lips he stood up. "Barkspawn will guard them. I saw a place earlier today I want to show you." he stretched his arm to offer a hand for Solona. She nodded as accepted it and stood up.

They walked side by side along the way of the narrow passage carved into the massive snow blanket. Solona had forgotten to put on her cloak and the icy winds soon sent chilling tendrils down her spine. Alistair without a word put his own cloak on her. And this single motion invoked floods of memories in her as they walked like this not so long ago, still, it felt like it was lifetimes ago. They didn't speak just hid into the silence of the dark forest that some howling of wolves interrupted from time to time.

They reached a clearing with some elven ruins, silver in the light of the full moon. Alistair walked to the old lit an old brazier with two flintstones casting Solona in a golden dim glow as the reflection of flames danced in her green eyes. "Come here," he beckoned to her and with a faint smile, she strode to him.

"Look," he pointed to a dark corner now illuminated by the brazier. "Snowdrops."

Solona only saw the sparkling whiteness at first mingling with the warm light of the fire than slowly she noticed the budding green peeking out of the winter coldness ending in white petals. She had never seen snowdrops before, just saw the illustrations in old and dusty books, which colors had paled through the ages. She felt as the agonizing and warm waves of emotions ran through her.

"It is the harbinger of spring,” Alistair said.

"The harbinger of new hope, _new life_ ," Solona added her voice trailed off.

Alistair stepped before her, taking her hands into his. "I wanted to show you this. I guess the Blight can't swallow everything. There are things in the world the death and desperation cannot taint. There are glints of hopes we can always cling to. Roses... snowdrops... _you_..."

"Alistair-"

One of his hand wandered to the end of her messy braid, playing with her red locks. "Your hair is much nicer like this than when you wear it in a bun," he leaned closer until his forehead touched hers. She could feel his pulse dance as his breath left hot vapor on her lips. His other hand traced up to her cheeks, his fingers softly brushing it. Her eyes had closed and the fire danced upon the curves of her face, illuminating her ginger hair until it looked like a cascade of flames. She had not moved. She had not returned his caresses. He withdrew his hand from her skin.

Solona took his hand into and turned it his palm facing to her. A scar ran across it just like on her palm. "You want to ask it, so ask it," There was no remorse or anger in Alistair's voice. It even felt colder than the chilling air of the winter night.

Her finger skimmed up and down on his palm tracing the straight line of the scar. She was hesitant to ask the question because she knew the answer. It was enough to see the satisfied smirk on Morrigan's face to know. So she just  closed his fingers into a fist and covered with her own hands. "The shadow asked me to tell you something, she said."It said you had never been forgotten."

Alistair frowned."Sol-"

"It doesn't matter," she cut him off, her eyes on their entangled hands. "I'm just hoping the price wasn't too high."

Alistair kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose. His hands went to her face, tangled in her hair and pulled her in closer, driving their lips together. She gasped against his lips. Her lips reluctantly retreated, hot breath against his face, "No price is high enough," he breathed into her mouth before sealed her lips with his again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little relief for them :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Feel free to leave a feedback. I'm tending to believe nobody reads my story :)


	29. Into the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party has reached the gates of Orzammar but they have more problem than entering the Deep Roads

They met resistance as had reached the enormous gates of Orzammar carved into the granite walls of the Frostback Mountains. The soldiers of Loghain called Solona and Alistair traitors. Solona had heard this badge of shame for a countless times since their defeat in Ostagar but this was the first time she felt anger rising in her with bursting agony as if lava flew through her veins ending in flames flickering between her fingers. That was the first time rage clouded her every sane thoughts and the world narrowed to a group of soldiers she had to destroy, she wanted to destroy. Her mind was blank without ideas, without perception, without sense.

She wasn't human but the raging fire herself, unstoppable and consuming. And the more she fought against it the more it overwhelmed her.

The next thing she heard the desperate calling of her name and the scene of charred and smoldering stumps once were human meat and bone and the identical stink of burned flesh and skin. The terror in the eyes around her penetrated through, the muffled whispers around were like shrieks, deafening. Her sore limbs trembled and she felt drained as if she fought through the every battle of the bygone ages in a few minutes. But she was unmoving, blank as her glance fixed in the pile of corpses feeling nothing but more rage as it overwhelmed her, craving for destruction to revenge something that had been committed long before the people of this land could have remembered.

A firm grip tightened around her, dragging her away from the accusing glares and whispers into the benevolent concealment of trees of the nearby forest. As her legs dipped into the thick blanket of snows trying to keep the pace her perception to the outside world had widened feeling the embracing coldness around her, cooling and soothing against her heated and feverish skin.

"What the hell was this?" Alistair yelled as they reached a small clearing. He turned her to face him, his fingers still around her arm, tight enough to bruise. Solona glanced on her sore palm, covered with angry red marks; blisters were rising at the side of them. And suddenly the pain had reached het spiking through her body with such ferocity her legs sagged and with a painful cry she landed in the snow.

Alistair crouched beside her and grabbed a handful of snow and placed on her abused skin bringing them a small relief than a new kind of burn against her bruise. A hiss escaped her lips as the coldness hit her. Solona found it interesting how similar the sense of snow and fire were against bare skin.

"I don't understand... the fire..." she muttered as watched the cold liquid trickling down her hand, the scar on her palm peeking out, feeling deeper than it was before. "It shouldn't be..."

"You stay on the surface with Wynne and the dwarves," Alistair declared, his tone categorical. As the snow slowly melted away he grabbed another handful of it and put on her bruised hand again. "You are not in the condition to handle the Deep Roads."

Solona with an angry move snapped her hand away from his caring touch. "Since when are you giving me orders?"

"Since you made the market at the gates into a living inferno, Solona," Alistair shouted, loud enough to make the birds flee away. He drew her bruised hand to himself with a tug again, taking a fresh roll of lint out of the satchel attached to his belt, wrapping it around her angry red palm. "Maker's breath, those soldiers have melted away like the wax of the burning candle," he hissed. "And you seemed different, as if-" be bit the words off his tongue and swallowed them before something irreversible could escape his lips. "And now I can't stop thinking about it I've unleashed something with Morrigan's ritual,"

Solona with a snort pulled her hand away again from his touch. "I'm not possessed if it is that you are implying." she daggered her eyes into his but found so much hardness in the hazel of them that it made her retreating and she looked away shrinking into silence. Alistair took her hand again and finished his job on the lint around her palm. Something uncertain descended on them, something unspeakable that cut a great divide between them. And she felt the agony rising in her chest spreading across her, deeper in her sinuses with every heartbeat.

"Something is changing in me," Solona spoke at last. "Something I-" she swallowed the words before they could leave her lips because she was too terrified to give these things a form. She cradled his hand with her free one. As the warmth of her skin collided of the coldness of his she felt as it sent shivers across Alistair's body. "I can control it," the lie spilled out her mouth too easily. She turned his palm to herself and the fingers of her bandaged hand traced across his scar looking the same the one on her own palm. "You brought me back from the Fade and now you want to leave me behind?" her cadence was bitter with accusation. "I thought you-"

"I thought you had died back there at Ostagar," he thundered. "Your skin was cold and everything was red by  _your_ blood. I thought I had lost you," he squeezed his eyes to pretend the tears spilling but they were unstoppable and trickled down her cheeks. „And I had lost you there and then you came back to me."

"You still want to abandon me," Solona riposted.

"We are in Blight, Solona. We have a mission to stop it, to save the people of Ferelden. The Deep Roads is a fucked up place already. How should I fight with the darkspawn if I had to worry about you or what you would unleash."

"I'm not a helpless damsel, Alistair," she snapped, her eyes narrowed as she looked across him. "And I'm all right,"

"No, you are not," he yelled as grabbed her hand and with a violent tug drew her closer to him. "But you know what, prove it, you are," he turned her palm facing them. " _Cast a fire spell_ ," he ordered.

"What?" she blinked.

"CAST A FIRE SPELL," he repeated, even louder than before, making her to twitch. His fingers tightened around her, his nails deepened into her skin. He saw the glint of fear in her eyes but he didn't release or loosen his fingers around her. He heard the wind bringing her ominous words to him he had heard before but he didn't want to hear it. _._

" _Do it,_ " he hissed. "If you and I are nothing to afraid of, do it," Solona stretched her trembling fingers. She felt the pain rising, burning her skin as the flames morphing in her hand. She felt the fire embracing them, licking their skins with hot strikes of whips. She felt the spell overwhelming her, boiling her blood, taking her sane thoughts away and giving her whispers, ordering her to destroy.

"No," she wept as clenched her fingers letting the flames die away. "I can't," she breathed.

Alistair released her hand, letting it to drop by her side. He hugged her and pressed a kiss on her sweaty and hot forehead. "I'm a Grey Warden, Solona, and I need the dwarves to stop this mess, to stop the Archdemon," he whispered.

"I'm a Warden too," she protested, trying to push him away from her but the more she struggled against his embrace the more it tightened around her.

"I know," he breathed. "And I wish you weren't."

* * *

The time passed with agonizingly slow pace on the surface.

Alistair and the rest of her companion, except Wynne who Alistair had insisted to stay beside her to guard her, had descended to the thaig of Orzammar leaving her behind. Alistair didn't even look back on her when the giant gates of the underground city closed behind him. He just left her behind. And maybe he was right. It would have been better if he hadn't been a Warden. It would have been better for everyone if Duncan had never recruit him, if her Master had let the Knight-Commander to perform the Rite of Tranquility on her. It would have been better for Alistair if they had never met as if it would have been better for Cullen.

The others had descended three days ago. Solona had barely slept since then. She had buried in practicing her spells and drowning in worry and self-pity. Her magic didn't obey her anymore. And as if she didn't find it an outrageous nonsense he would have even said it even turned against her. The fire spells left angry red burnt marks on her, the ice spells chilled her skin and the lightning spells sent electric jolts through her body.

She rubbed the heels of her hands in her tired eyes, feeling the burn of the exhaustion behind her lids. She was beyond tired. Sleep had evaded her, her dreams haunted by fleeting visions of the Archdemon breathing fire on the Blight-infected lands or mirrors reflecting her elf girl looking like her with a smirk at the side of her lips. The mirrors led her to strange places, into strange memories where she was only a trespasser, an observant. Strangely demons had avoided her or became trickier. But nights were still her enemies and the days didn't become her allies.

She blinked hard, her eyes refocusing as the rays of sunlight spilled over the peaks of the Frostback Mountain and the buzzing at the back of her skull hit her again. She felt it more than enough to recognize it, still it was different, mixing with the sweet song of the lyrium veins beneath her. She felt it more intent than ever before, sometimes blurring her vision and giving her images of the Archdemon calling her to march with it.

"Pretty Lady," the cheerful voice of Sandal pulled her back again. The savant dwarf they rescued her at Lothering stuck around with his father. Solona always felt something bone-shaking and familiar as looked into those ice-blue eyes of the dwarf. As if she knew him lifetimes ago. "Enchantment,"

The dwarf handled a small pendant to her. Solona studied the crimson bloodstone, coruscating as the rays of the rising sun glinted on it. A fire rune carved into it, and the other side there was a mark, the winding vines and leaves giving out a form.

"This is..." she whispered as her eyes followed the trails of lines and finally rested on the fair-haired dwarf boy with the meek smile on his face.

"Enchantment," he answered with an all-knowing glint in his glance. Solona studied the boy, the seemingly dumb and slow. Something descended on them, darkening the air with lingering shadows of something sad and bittersweet as if they had always known each other.

"The boy has crafted this since Lothering," Sandal's foster father, Bodahn approached them. "He said for the Pretty Lady with fire. I've never seen this symbol before though, it isn't dwarven."

"It is Elven," Solona replied studying the lines more intently. "This is the symbol of Sylaise, the Heartkeeper."

"Elven?" Bodahn exclaimed. "Sandal, where did you learn these elf-things."

"They will dance and many will disappear forever," the dwarf boy said, his eyes fixed on Solona. "The dragon will fall down from the skies one last time to burn away with the white towers of ivory. And the mirrors will scatter and there will be no way back that it were before."

"By the ancestors, what's gotten into you, my boy?" Bodahn, rushed to his son and shook him.

Sandal looked on his father "Enchantment," he smiled and shrugged before left his baffled father and Solona.

"The boy says gibberish sometimes, Warden, forget it," Bodahn apologized before followed his son. The Warden held the pendant in her hand, her eyes traced the redundant lines again, crafted with great care and repeated Sandal's words in herself.

 _"The dragon will fall down from the skies one last time..."_ the buzzing in her skull suddenly spiked and she felt the caves living under her, as if blood rushed through those grooves, millions of wasted lives pulsating in the belly of the mountain. And a roaring over the marches of  death bringing devastation to this land, breathing violet fire, calling her to kneel before it, to serve the taint in her blood.

"Maker, my child, you have fever again," she heard the muffled and worried voice of Wynne and felt a soft palm touching her forehead  before the vision swallowed he. The black dragon was rising over Denerim, nesting in the highest tower, sea of deads around it and a last standing soldier in a golden armor, facing his last attack.

 _"...to burn away with the white towers of ivory,"_ the soldier drew out his weapon and with a battle cry run toward the beast...

Cold and soaked linen hit her heated skin covered with cold sweat, the cool air of the awakening spring brought her back to the Frostback Mountains "The Archdemon is here," Solona muttered.

"You are only delirious, my dear," Wynne hushed her, the healing magic surging in her but not giving any relief. The buzzing sound in her skull was like a battle drum, louder with every beat.  "Nobody is here, just us and a few dwarfs."

Solona jumped up into a sitting position, sweeping away the old mage's healing hands. "No, the Archdemon is here... I have to alert Alistair... he is walking right into the nest of the darkspawn horde," the words were erratic on her tongue.

Wynne took her gentle hands on her shoulder, pushing her back to the bedroll. "It was just a bad dream, Solona, my dear, you need to rest. Alistair insisted you to stay here, he is alright,"

" _NO_ ," Solona screamed as pushed the old mage away from her making her to fall back on the cold and frozen ground, her head collided to the dirt floor with an audible _thwack. "_ I have to go after him," Solona heaved as stood up, her limbs weak and sore from her delirium, almost sagged. She reached for her staff and practically tore the cuirass open, the sudden sunlight, blurred her vision and sent a piercing pain to the nape of her neck. She felt the magic surging in her violently as like acid burnt her veins, boiling her blood. She felt as it broke free from her control and coils around her everywhere.

"Solona," A hand grabbed her arm, her energies invisibly crept on it, trapped the body holding her back. " You can't go there, you are not in the condition to fight. You would cause more damage than help," her magic closed around the body, keeping it in a lethal snare. She tried to escape from the grip but it held her steadily. "Solona, please, stop."

" _LET ME GO,_ " she cried, the coils of her magic tightened bringing spasmodic pain on the old mage's body, holding in to one place. The rigid fingers loosened around her and she could escape and ran to the giant gates of Orzammar, feeling the lava rivers beneath her flowing, pulsating in angry waves, wanting to break free, bringing tremors on the ground only she could feel. Her weak limbs hitched and she fell on the cold stone steps.

"Solona," Wynne ran to the Warden, her hands still shook from the aftermath of Solona's paralyzing magic.

"They trapped the fire..." Solona heaved, feeling the cool ground heating up under her touch.

* * *

_Orzammar was a nightmare._

It was hot and by the angry lava rivers flowing through it, the air filled with violence and smoke, everything had the taste of ash and dust. Randomly lyrium veins found their way through the stone, glowing in iridescent blue against the warm amber light of the melted stone. Even a Templar recruit could feel the soft song the raw lyrium sang, alluring the ones who could hear it into sweet madness.

Alistair couldn't get rid of his armor fast enough after the fights at the Proving Grounds to not feel the scorch of the hot metal on his skin. He wiped the mix of sweat, dust and blood from his face with a dirty cloth, but nothing could really vanish the stain of this place. He wanted nothing more but leave and never come back. He was wondering how the dwarves could live like this, trapped under the enormous stone arches, sealed away from the sunshine, surrounded with violence and death, sieged by darkspawn.

The cloth he used to clean his face now scrubbed the dried blood off his sword. He was terrified to go deeper down the Deep Roads. He felt the calling of the Blight at the back of his skull, singing him melodies, he heard the song of the lyrium, sweeter than the most luscious sin. He felt the whole place pulsating like it was one giant organ around them and they were just cells flowing through the grooves as the blood rushes to the heart.

"It was the best you could do," he heard the soft cadence of a songbird.

Alistair run the cloth through the blade one last time before took it away and looked into the sapphire eyes glowing against the darkness of the stones. "What?"

"Leaving her on the surface," Leliana said as sat down next to him. "This place would just drive her more into madness,"

Alistair didn't answer, just registered it with a soft growl. "I know you-"

"You know _nothing_ , Leliana," he snapped. "Do you think I'm that blind? Do you think I don't know she is losing her mind or she has already lost it? Do you think I don't know the best thing would be locking her away or-" he swallowed his words before they could have left his lips. "And I wish I could say I protect her for the sake of Ferelden, because she is a Grey Warden, that I'm just doing my duty. But I'm not even know what I am doing. How am I supposed to save Ferelden  or rule it if I can't even-"

Alistair sighed heavily dropping his head between his shoulders, burying his face into his hands, raking his face with his fingers. "Do you think I don't know what you whisper behind our backs? That everyone's life is in the hands of a lunatic and an imbecile idiot?" Tears were threatening to spill out. With a nervous move he crumbled them away. "I wish it wouldn't be me, and I wish it wouldn't be her." Leliana tried to reach out for her but he angrily pulled her hands away. "This is just too much-" his words drowned into a repressed snob, but his body shook by his unshed tears.

Leliana slipped closer and placed her hand on his back, circling it in a soft and soothing caress. She touched her forehead on his back and her hands slowly entwined him into a tight embrace. "I'm here to help, Alistair." she breathed.

He trembled under her touch for long minutes as the silence descended on the small and dark hollow of the Proving Grounds. Only the roaring sounds of the arena infiltrated and the restrained wails of Alistair were audible. Leliana pressed her body to him as much as she could but nothing brought tranquility on Alistair. Everything fell on him with quintal weight, suffocating him without leaving any route of escape. Leliana hushed him as pressed feather light kisses on his back. Bu they felt cold and wizen-hearted. And Alistair wished if only it had been otherwise.

"Alistair, we have the permission to enter the Deep Roads," Zevran's voice scattered them. They jumped up in unison, adjusting their crumpled clothes with embarrassed moves. The assassin switched his glance between the Warden and the bard, narrowing his eyes. Alistair dried his tear-streaked eyes and cleared his throat before took his sword and left without even registering the words he heard.

Zevran looked after the jaded Warden as he tottered out the door. "A word of advice, Leliana, my dear," he began, picking up one of his nails avoiding her glance. "Don't try to break something that is sealed with curse and blood."

Leliana snorted as walked beside the assassin a sneer plastered on her face. "I never thought you are that superstitious," she scoffed, the only answer she got was a laugh.

* * *

The amber glow of the outside was like a sparkling sunlight comparing the dim light of braziers of the Proving Grounds. Alistair even needed to shield his eyes for a moment to adjust the sudden brightness of the lava river. As his eyes slowly adjusted a familiar figure loomed up before him, her red hair were like flames themselves against the brightness of the molten stone. Her cheeks were rosy and the green of her eyes hazy, the life barely shimmered in them.  She stood against her staff; otherwise her legs couldn't bear even her own feather light weight.

Alistair rushed to her before her knees sapped and sealed her between his arms. "Blast it, you stubborn wicked witch," he hissed. "Just once, could you just do what I say?"

The feverish green eyes looked on him, flames danced in them: "The Archdemon is here," Solona whispered before lost her consciousness.


	30. Claustrophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona wakes up in Orzammar with high fever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter is super long but I didn't wanted to split into two :)

_Delusional._  
  
_Unpredictable._  
  
_Dangerous._  
  
Only fragments had reached the waking Solona, but the buzzing sound at the back of her skull slowly swallowed every other voice around her. It called her, allured her, gave her visions until everything blackened around her once again and only the roaring of the Archdemon she heard as it circled over the highest tower of Denerim.  
  
She tumbled on the uncomfortable stone bed. She felt the air sizzling around her, and the hotness scorched her already overheated skin. The cold compress against her forehead was like thousands of needles prodded her and sent icy shudders down her spine. She felt the coiling of healing magic around her. Her eyelids were too heavy to open them, but she heard the boots coming and going near the place she was lying. From time to time pain twinged into her limbs and she felt her whole body tensed.  
  
"The Archdemon is here," she muttered this like a chant over and over again, but she wasn't sure that any sound had left her throat.  
  
Wet cloth cleaned the cold sweat from her face and a soft female voice hushed her before lifted a glass to her chapped lips to drink. As the water poured down her throat, she felt the life coming back to her. The massive stones of visions dropped off her. The sudden light as she opened her eyes a migraine that was growing in her head tried to strain her skull. She was so tired to wake up with a headache every single time she had a blackout.  
  
The first thing she saw was Alistair standing at the side of her bed, leaning against a neatly polished stone wall. His hands were crossed before his chest. He didn't look at her but the crowded streets of the underground city of Orzammar.  
  
"Alistair-" Solona heaved as tried to sit up but her arms were too weak to bear her weight. She fell back on the hard stone bed.  
  
Alistair drew his glance from the window and looked around the room. "Leave us," he ordered, felt like a clap of thunder. She heard boots leaving the room but was too weak to realize who they were. She once again tried to sit up but failed again, falling back on the stone bed. She lay silent, awaiting the storm she could sense brewing. She knew him too well. She knew herself too well.  
  
Alistair fixed his glance on a pile of dust on the floor. "Stubborn, wicked witch," he hissed. "I told you to stay on the surface. I'm on a fucking thin ice here, and above all my problems you've just shown up from nowhere and fainted in the middle of the Diamond Quarter," his speech turned into a roar. "Just once, could you do as I say, Solona, just one fucking time." He paced between her bed and the window as the frustration he had been trying to deny in the past few days bubbled up to the surface.  
  
"But the Archdemon is here," she muttered.  
  
"You are telling this over and over again, but I can't feel it. Or do you think only you have the gift to sense it?" Solona shook her head to an uncertain no as fixed her eyes on a sooty spot on the ceiling, feeling the tears trickling down her cheeks. Alistair was right to question her. Maybe it was just a dream after all. But she felt the presence of the Archdemon in her every fiber, every nerve ending. Alistair turned to the window against leaning on the frame with his full weight. His nails scratched the stone surface until it closed into a tight fist "Whatever you saw, it was just a dream."  
  
"No, Alistair, you have to believe me, it is here." Solona tried to sit up again but failed one more time. "I saw a vision. I saw the Archdemon. I sense it, right under us in the Deep Roads. We could end the Blight right here."  
  
Alistair snorted. "You see visions all the time. How can you distinct what is real and what is just another game of your mind?" he lowered his voice, it almost felt cold and emotionless. He sighed as dropped his head between his shoulders and for "Maybe you should go back to the Circle Tower after I returned from the Deep Roads... to heal," the words fell slowly into the silent divide it created between them. Alistair turned to her once again, and Solona tried to push herself up again, but her arms were still too weak to hold her and sagged, but her elbow stopped her to fall back. She said nothing just registered it with a nod of resignation.  
  
"You are right," she answered biting her lips to ease the pain rising in her chest until she felt the coppery taste of spilled blood in her mouth. "I don't know what is real anymore and maybe Leliana is right. I'm delusional, a lunatic. I heard her speaking, Alistair-" her voice trailed off. The stern lines of Alistair's face softened as he strode to her bed, sitting next to her. He pushed back a stray lock of hair that fell across her cheek, the back of his hand brushing her skin, the burning heat still lingered on it. He reached out and took her hand in his own, her soft, pliant fingers entwined in his, the scars on their palms on each other. And for a moment Alistair felt her heart beating as his own, aching and dark. "But I know what I've seen, you believe me or not," she freed her fingers and turned away from him. She squeezed her eyes to prevent more tears from spilling. Alistair moved closer until she felt his breath on her skin, felt scorching against the hotness of the ash-filled air. Alistair kissed the nape of her neck. She didn't move just tensed under his touch. "I can't blame you. I would do the same."  
  
Alistair withdrew felt as goose bumps shivered across his body by the coldness of her words. He stood up from her and strode to the door. He stopped in his track halfway, closed his eyes and rubbed his temples in frustration. He was irritated with her for doing this to herself; he was afraid for her safety. His fear was masked in anger as his hands clenched at his sides when he spun and faced her. "Blast it, Solona, Do you think this is easy for me? Seeing you suffering day by day and I can do nothing but watch it powerlessly?"  
  
"Alistair-" she tried to soothe him, turning to him. He would not be calmed; he needed to get this off his chest.  
  
"I can't help you. Especially if you are doing the exact opposite that I told you," He hadn’t realized he was yelling until he heard his voice ring off the stone walls in her silence. She was unfazed in his fury, fear in her eyes. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice, but his words were still sharp. "I can't do this like this anymore."  
  
She shook her head and narrowed her eyes at him, her words curt. "I've never asked you to do."  
  
Alistair growled under his breath in frustration as stepped to the door. He shook his head and placed his hand upon the handle, gripping hard before pushing it down. "You never had to," his voice rang in her deafening silence. He had stung her, he could feel it. He sighed heavily. He was not angry at her, he was afraid for her, and here he was taking it out on her. He waited with baited breath for long moments to hear her answer, but he only heard some shifting behind him.  
  
"Be safe, Alistair," Her answer was short and sharp. Alistair released a frustrated chuckle before tore the door open and stormed out. Soft, cattish steps replaced the angry clinging sound of his metal boots. Zevran approached the bed placing her obsidian dagger on the stone nightstand.  
  
"You dropped it, Warden," he said plainly. Solona shot a glance at him before turned on her side facing the stone wall. "Keep the Demonbane close, Solona; you'll need it," Zevran's tone was unusually thoughtful. Solona frowned her eyebrows and turned to him again. "Both Bhelen and Harrowmont have their agendas, and I doubt it would be helping the Wardens."  
  
Solona frowned her eyebrows as turned to the assassin again. "Does Alistair trust in them?"  
  
Zevran burst out in laughter. She felt it was tinged with nervousness. "I'm not the one who he initiates in anything, my dear Warden. I'm just only telling you I feel something is wrong around here. The whole city is a gunpowder barrel, and one of them or both of them want to light the match. And you, a mage Warden who is seemingly unwell is a perfect cassus belli for a civil war, my dear-"  
  
A door opened, and a dwarven girl entered that silenced Zevran. She put a mug of thick ale next to her bed. "It is for your fever, topsider. Old Dwarven recipe." Solona took a short glance on Zevran before lifted the cup to her nose and sniffed. The honeyed eyes of the assassin narrowed, and a glint flashed across them. The fustiness of the liquid filled her nostrils as she did everything to swallow the bile rising in her throat.  
  
"The old witch sent it to ya," the dwarven girl hastily answered before Solona could ask anything. The Warden lifted the mug once again and sniffed it. "Believe me; you don't want to know what is in it. You, surface folks are so squeamish,"  
  
"Absolutely," Zevran beamed with his usual careless tone, as gently grabbed the dwarven on her shoulder and ushered out the room. "I make sure our little patient will drink every last drop of it," and she slammed the door behind him. He strode to the bed and took the mug from Solona sniffing into it.  
  
"It is deep mushroom and something I can't recognize," the Warden said. Zevran registered her with a hum as opened a door attached to the room and sent the ale down the lavatory. His movements were slow and deliberate and this somehow terrified Solona. The assassin's steps became hesitating as strode back to her bed, reaching out for the dagger. He drew it out from the leather case and for a few moments, he just watched the black surface of the obsidian blade. "Zev-"  
  
"Promise me, Solona," he began as handled the dagger to the Warden closing her fingers around the hilt then wrapped them with his own. "Promise me, you won't release this dagger until we return," she couldn't answer just nodded. A pale smile appeared at the side of the assassin's lips as nodded and reluctantly stepped away from the mage girl and took his steps to the door.  
  
"Promise me, Zevran," Solona whispered, but it was loud enough to make the elf stop. He turned back, his honey colored, always radiating eyes were darkened with worry. "Promise me he will return safe and sound."  
  
A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he pushed the handle down. "My dear Warden, it is not Alistair I'm worried about," the door opened with a loud an ominous creak. "Rest, you'll need your strength," he said and left, leaving her alone confused surrounded by the whispers of the raging fire and alluring lyrium slipping into her thoughts, blurring her vision once again, her elbows sagged and her head landed on the thin pillow crashing to the stone surface. Before drowsiness conquered her again with her last traces of her consciousness slid the dagger under her pillow and tightened her fingers around it.

* * *

_The Deep Roads were even worse than Orzammar._  
  
Alistair was only once under the ground, before his Joining with Duncan, gaining the darkspawn blood for his ritual. He remembered how different it was, only hearing the constant clatters of the deepstalkers or the spiders. Maker, he so hated spiders. But now he only heard the buzzing sound in his skull creeping on him from everywhere, throbbing rhythmically in unison with his heartbeat. Still, a dark nook of his mind was somewhere else, repeating something over and over again, sometimes even louder than the calling of the taint, straining his skull apart. Strangely the scar on his hand throbbed in pain. He gripped the hilt of his drawn sword even tighter to subdue the pain. He felt blood trickling between his fingers but when he glanced at it there way nothing. His nerves stretched to the breaking point, jumping to every noise.  
  
As they turned from the main pathway to the narrow side tunnel, he felt the air trapping in his lungs, and his ribs became a tight prison around them. They followed the glow of the torchlight of their dwarven guide. But it wasn't necessary. Alistair could have navigated even in the darkest cave; he had to do nothing else but following the trails of reek coming from that drunkard dwarf.  
  
"This is the right way out. Ortan Thaig. It won't be long now," who was called Oghren said. His sodden breath struck his nostrils, but even that couldn't hide the stench of corruption and rotting corpses, moss and fungus. From time to time he discovered pure lyrium veins finding their way out the rocks. He hadn't consumed it for a while now but he the alluring was still strong, if not hypnotizing mixing with the calling of the Blight. He understood why Solona thought that she had felt the Archdemon in the Deep Roads.  
  
"She trusted you," Zevran stepped next to Alistair. Thevelvety voice of the assassin made him jump in surprise and point his sword to him. The elf stood unflinching, not even reach for his blades and just a smirk appeared the side of his lips.  
  
Alistair lowered his weapon. "It's not your business assassin." he hissed.  
  
Zevran guffawed. "Oh, but it is Leliana's, I see. She is the one suggested you bringing her back to the Circle, isn't she? Formidable little minx is our little songbird."  
  
Alistair clenched his fingers around the hilt of his sword. "She just wants to help."  
  
"So you think locking Solona into the Circle Tower would solve the problem." Zevran poked. "Has she ever told you how she was conscripted. I bet she did. She opened up to you, maybe a bit too much if you ask me."  
  
Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the pulsating of the darkspawn hive mind in his mind more intense than before. "So let me ask you something." He asked being a bit impatient and annoyed. "What are your intentions with Solona? You are fussing around her for a time now."  
  
Zevran let out a delighted laugh. "Do I detect a bit of jealousy there? Feeling territorial, are we? You aren't paying attention then, dear Alistair."  
  
"I am just asking what your intentions. You are training her dueling though she doesn't need. You are giving gifts to her costing a small fortune like that obsidian dagger. Also, you did try to kill us all starting with her, remember?" Alistair took a steadying breath, forcing himself to remain relaxed. Now, he walked a dangerous line. Zevran hadn’t moved, but there was a subtle tension to him, tightness in his jaw. They weren't there for pity cockfighting. Still, he felt they both reached a point from where there was no turning back.  
  
"And now I owe her a blood debt," the elf replied. "As she has spared my life. It has brought us closer together." Alistair felt the taint running in the tunnels around him, but the rushing of rising rage of his blood silenced everything. He began only hear his own more and more forced breaths and rushing heartbeat. His fingers dug into the metal surface of the tilt of his sword, but nothing could ease the rising tension in him almost breaking his fingernails. Even the darkspawn silenced just the assassin's words cut through the haze descending on him. "I always had a taste for delectable red ones. But she is a marvelous specimen. She tastes like the finest of Antiva’s wines. A crisp, sweet white with underlying notes of apple." He let out a sound of a satisfied purr. "And her skin white and silky, smooth like marvel, so warm the man craves to touch it forever. And those freckles covering her arms and back. She is a masterpiece, and I have to say my thanks. Without you, I could have never tasted such a delightful delicacy."  
  
The flaring rage and jealousy clouded his mind as he punched Zevran in his face then pointing his sword right to his throat. The others circled them watching the scene with worried or in Morrigan's case with an amused glance. "You are lying," Alistair growled.  
  
"Why is this more unbelievable than she isn't delusional and sensed the Archdemon?" Zevran smirked.  
  
Alistair pressed the weapon more to his throat, scratching the skin over it, small trails of blood appearing. "Because I don't sense it."  
  
"Ahh so Warden's pride is here, I see," the elf chuckled. "So if you can't sense it, she can't. Logical."  
  
"Shut the fuck up, before I send my sword through your throat." Alistair snarled. He only needed a little more move to kill him. The world was spinning around him, bringing the voices of the taint from everywhere rushing through the narrow tunnels. But he could only hear his heartbeat hammering in his chest.  
  
"Hey, we have a situation here!" Oghren blurted and pointed to the herd of genlocks approaching. Alistair felt his skull straining apart by the buzzing song of the blight, hearing the darkspawn.  
  
"Shit," Alistair hissed as drew away his sword from Zevran's throat and helped him to get up.  
  
They flooded from everywhere, and the deafening shrieks filled the narrow and dark tunnels of the Deep Roads. Alistair felt the fire in his blood, the beating of his heart, watched as the horde charged toward them hearing their every thought, a roaring, so loud he could swear the ceiling cracked over them. And a voice telling him the same over and over again.  
  
_He must have lost his mind_ , he thought.  
  
He screamed as rushed toward the genlock, buried his blade in its neck and kicked the beast off his sword, the black blood staining him. And suddenly the world became more narrow than it was before.

* * *

Solona lay on the stone bed in the strange state of semi-consciousness. Her eyelids were lead heavy, and she could barely keep them open, but she never released the dagger in her hand. When she fell asleep had torturing visions all the same.

She saw the Archdemon circling over the highest tower of Denerim and a warrior in golden armor, drawing his sword facing the beast alone among the piles of corpses the dragon had defeated before him. But before he charged against the beast he looked back right at Solona, the hazel eyes filled with determination, those chapped lips smiling knowing the inevitable. Then he collided with the Archdemon in one bright cataclysm purifying Ferelden from the Blight, both he and the beast perishing.  
  
She sometimes felt that someone changed compress on her cold-sweated forehead, felt the healing magic coiling her, but only for moments before ended up in the Fade again in another nightmare. She could always come back, but in the physical world, she felt too weak to keep herself awake for a longer period. And when she was awake she felt her energy burning her veins, and she winced every time the magic waved through her. She felt the stench of elfroot and the bitter taste of it on her tongue. She choked and coughed as spat it out; her hand tightened even more around the hilt of her dagger hid under the blanket.  
  
"Hush, my child, it is only for your fever," Wynne kissed her forehead motherly. "It went down now, but your body still fights," a cold compress were pressed to her forehead sweeping away the beads of cold sweat. She tried to move. Pain erupted from her limbs, so she sank back down.  
  
"How much time-" she tried to ask. Her mouth was dry and chapped, and it was hard to form the words. The old mage rushed to her with some water to drink.  
  
"They left a day ago," Wynne replied. She ran her hands over Solona's body, and she felt the healing magic running through her like a fresh breeze on the hot summer day. She couldn't help but let a moan of relief escape her lips. "I ran out of elfroot. I need to go up to the surface. Rest, my child, this is the best you can do now,"  
  
Solona nodded her head to a haggard yes. The lips of the old mage curved into a soft smile as buried her under the blankets, with the gentleness of a mother. The Warden turned facing the wall, her fingers tight around the hilt of her dagger. The fever shook her body and the world slowly narrowed around her until she heard nothing else but her heartbeat and the buzzing sound at the back of her skull.  
  
The door creaked making her twitch and suddenly wide awake. The deliberate sound of footsteps on the polished floor approached to her and stopped just before her bed. Solona couldn't say how many were there. She tried to count the sounds of step, but the only she knew there were more than one. She felt her magic surging through her veins, and the flames flickered between her fingers. She tried to take her breaths slow but the sudden fear that overwhelmed her just oiled the raging fire inside her.  
  
"Is she sleeping?" a gruff voice asked reeking from ale.  
  
"She must be," the answer came. Solona recognized the voice. The dwarven girl who gave her the ale. "The sleep-milk I gave her would even knock out a bronto."  
  
"Just grab her and take her to the hideout," Solona readied her knife as the pulled the blanket off her and with a sudden move she had whisked her blade before them as jumped up from the bed.  
  
"Shit, the bitch cut me," a black bearded dwarf cursed as wiped the trail of blood from his cheek her blade cut. Solona tried to remember what Zevran had thought her how she should position herself, tried to find the safe spots of the room scanning her eyes across the room nervously. Her breath quickened, and she felt the rising energy breaking through her.  
  
"Stay away from me," she heaved backing to the door. Now she realized the room was full of dwarves armed with axes and double blades. "I don't want to hurt anyone, just stay away," Her legs were weak and shaking, barely holding her weight.  
  
The dwarves burst out in laughter. "Look around sweetheart. You are outnumbered. And now be a good Warden and come with us. You have such a pretty face. It would be a shame if something happened to it."  
  
Solona's bare feet slid backward again until her back collided with the wooden door. Her hands desperately coiled around her dagger pointing to the dwarves. The flames licked her skin demanded to break free. "Please, you trapped the fire under the surface, but you cannot stop it to break free," Her vision blurred and the spike of energy rushed trough remaking her to cry out.  
  
"What ya blabbering about?" a black haired dwarf grabbed her hand trying to squeeze the dagger out of her hand. Solona gripped his wrist, feeling the energy leaving her body, burning the leather armband of the dwarf, melting it away as if it was butter between her fingers. Until it reached his skin, burning it with raging and melting fire.  
  
"Ahhhh, fucking witch," the dwarf shrieked as collapsed in pain. Solona withdrew her hand. Watched as he writhed in agony the on the floor, the smell of burnt flesh filled her nose and the blisters appeared on her palm again and the pain spiked through her so intense she almost collapsed.  
  
The horror in her eyes met with the others.  
  
" _Kill her_ ," on of them cried and they all charged at her. Solona felt the energy surging through her again and she cast a fire spell setting the whole room on fire, burning all those dwarves in the room. She still leaned against the closed door chanting in herself it wans't real, she was just dreaming. They shrieked as the flesh melted off them as if they were wax.  
  
The door opened behind her and she fell back on the floor, her head colliding to the stone floor with a loud.  
  
"Maker, Solona, what have you done?" Wynne rooted with horror as watched the destruction of the room. But Solona without an answer just jumped up and ran out to the streets, not realizing se just wore her undergarment and ran to the Deep Roads, not hearing not seeing anything just the gate leading to the tunnels until the darkness swallowed her.

* * *

Alistair tossed another corpse off his sword, the last one of the current wave of darkspawn. They fought their way the Ortan Thaig, the ruins and narrow tunnels, leaving countless of corpses behind. He didn't bother to wipe the black blood off his armor anymore. He just wanted to get out the hellhole of the Deep Roads, not the hear the calling of the Blight, that buzzing at the back of his skull became a storm of rhythmical drums now, silencing everything around him, even the alluring song of the lyrium veins.  
  
They camped down near the Dead Trenches. Alistair sat alone on a rock, far from the others, cleaning his sword, cleaning from the dried black blood. He liked these simple things. It was soothing, let his thoughts drifting away somewhere peaceful, like a glade with a tree and rushing stream where he could play stone skipping.  
  
"We are getting close, I'm feeling it in my bones," Oghren interrupted his daydreaming. "Looks like the Dead Trenches is our next stop, then. The say the darkspawn nest there, whole herds of 'em. But if that's where Branka went, then that's where I'm going."  
  
Alistair snorted in an unamused laughter. "As if we didn't meet any darkspawn on our way."  
  
The hazed intoxicated leer of the dwarf rested on the Warden thoughtfully before dragged down some ale from his canteen. "You know what would do you some good?" he asked.  
  
"A pair of nose plugs?" Alistair answered barely hiding his disgusted grimace and took his sword back to its case.  
  
"Huh, no. Go out, find a girl. Doesn't matter who, as long as there's no pants involved." the dwarf blabbered between two blurbs. "Like the Warden, we left in Orzammar. I bet she would spread her legs for you without a second thought-" the ragged words of the drunken dwarf silenced and he could hear nothing but the uncompromising calling of the Blight, so loud he thought it would have torn his ear drums. The cacophony culminated in a deafening roar.  
  
"Silence," Alistair cried and turned to Leliana. "Did you hear it too? The roaring?" the bard nodded to a yes, and they jumped up in unison. The Warden drew his weapon again when heard the beast again. They exchanged a glance with Leliana and Sten signaling them to come. "Stay here. We'll see what this."  
  
Alistair took his steps cautiously, feeling the taint in his blood every time. It boiled his blood and blurred his vision but led him.  
  
They reached a breach light and heat coming up. Alistair approached the edge and looked down. The torches fluttered as a firefly at the bottom of the seam; beastly voices followed its ways. A sea of darkspawn floated forward commanded by a roar, and suddenly a huge shadow passed before them settling on a stone arch, breathing violet fire.  
  
"Maker," Alistair heaved. "Solona was right; the Archdemon is here."  
  
The beast was enormous and mesmerizing. Alistair's legs rooted as watched it flying away. Everything else washed away; he just saw the dragon flying away, calling him to battle.  
  
"Alistair," Leliana's scream dragged him back, but before he could react a shrieker was on him, they landed on the ground. He dropped his sword, falling into the breach. He struggled with the darkspawn, but couldn't kick of himself. He felt the days of the constant fight and wandering in the darkness had consumed his strength.  
  
But suddenly fire blasted over him, sending the shrieker into the breach. This only meant one thing. Alistair jumped up and saw Solona standing before her, almost naked, her bare legs full with bleeding cuts, barely holding her. Both of her hands held fire globes ready to strike. She seemed so frightening and unreachable as stood there. With a scream she cast her spell that was so powerful, the walls cracked, and soon the whole place became an inferno, melting even the stone ground under them.  
  
"Solona," Alistair yelled, but it didn't seem his words earned him as she readied to strike again. Another blast of fire and the earth quaked, cracking the stalactites of the ceiling, and the last thing Alistair remembered was falling stone he tried to dodge.

She heard his bones cracking, and the horrifying sound broke her spell and as many times before she only saw the destruction she caused. But this time she didn't care. She just saw a lifeless arm peeking out piles of rock. She screamed as rushed to him, energized the rocks from his broken body, She kneeled down with trembling hand unbuckled the straps of his chest plate running her hands over his body, trying to channel healing energy.  
  
His heart didn't beat. NO NO NO.  
  
"Wynne," she screamed. The old mage ran to the unconscious body of Alistair, "Help me!" she begged.  
  
Wynne kneeled down to Alistair, placing her hand before his nose. "He doesn't breathe, Solona,"  
  
"Help me," she asked the old mage again, forcing her hand on his chest. "He must live. Please, if not you the spirit within you, I beg you, help me," Wynne, feeling the fractures and the crushed organs within Alistair's body was reluctant, it was too late to help. Still, she channeled her energy into the broken Warden.  
  
Solona also cast her own spell driven by desperation realizing her hands were shaking. The major breaks and tears had been set and would begin the process of healing, but his heart still didn't beat. She tried to focus her energies but nothing.  
  
"Maker, Creators, the Old Gods, any god who hear me, I beg you, take me if you want, but let him live," she prayed. She focused her every energy on him, feeling the breaks healing and her own bones cracking. She cried out in pain, breaking her spell.  
  
"Solona, he is dead," Wynne yelled. She refused to listen and tried again. She felt as her energy spread in him she felt the blood flowing in his veins again and she felt her own sinuses tearing apart at the same time.  
  
"Wynne, help," she heaved. The old mage despite her best judge, knowing she wouldn't listen to any sense tried again, feeling something changing, a faint thudding then another, until with deep coughs Alistair woke up, and as their glance met. Solona smiled in relief before fainted in pain into Alistair's arms.  
  
"Solona," he gingerly shook him. but she didn't wake up. "What happened?" he turned to the baffled Wynne, who just shook her head.  
  
"She was attacked by some dwarves... fled to the Deep Roads. She... Maker, this is impossible," the old mage muttered.  
  
Alistair swept his hand across her sweaty forehead, feeling the scorching heat of her skin, "She has still high fever. We have to take her back to Orzammar."  
  
"Alistair, we can't," Leliana said. "We are very close to the Anvil. We could lose weeks if we turned back now and we see the Archdemon, the darkspawn hordes."  
  
"I agree with Leliana," Zevran chimed in. "We have to split up. Wynne, Morrigan and I take her back to Orzammar, the rest of you should proceed to the Anvil."  
  
"Since when you give orders?" Alistair hissed tightening his arms around Solona.  
  
"Since your judgment is questionable in the matters of her," Zevran answered reaching out for her, scooping her lifeless body in his arms. "I'll take care of her, Alistair, I promise, he said. Alistair among groans stood up and took the sword Sten handed to him.  
  
"If something happens to her-"  
  
I know, I know, you'll cut me open." the assassin cut him. "Rest is assured, dear Alistair, she spared my life, and I would die anytime if it means she live," he hissed challengingly. "She is in good hands."  
  
Alistair reluctantly nodded and sent them back to Orzammar, he and the others went deeper in the tunnels to the legendary Anvil.

* * *

Returning to Orzammar, to the city of ash and smoke was a salvation after they went through in the Deep Roads.  
  
He stood in the hall led to the Chamber of the Assembly. Alistair held the jeweled piece of power Caridin, the long lost Paragon, forged and confided to him. The fate of Orzammar was in his hands, and he was unsure what of doing. He shouldn't be the one making this decision. He was just a Grey Warden, he wasn't a bloody king, no matter what Eamon expected of him. He wasn't his father's son; it was Cailan.  
  
"Warden Theirin," Lord Harrowmont interrupted his words. "I understand your fellow Warden has to answer for serious charges after her awakening."  
  
"Lord Harrowmont, many treaties-"  
  
"I know the ancient settlements, boy, my family serves the crown for centuries," the dwarf cut Alistair off. "I also know she acted in self-defense. But still, a mage surfacer shed blood in our sacred city."  
  
"Many other has shed blood." Alistair reposted.  
  
"But a Warden who came for help? She not just jeopardized her freedom and life, but our obligation to fulfill the contract toward the Greys."  
  
Alistair fretfully massaged his throbbing temple. "What are you implying, my Lord? I just came back from the Anvil, my sister in arms is still unconscious, and I have no time nor mood for political games."  
  
"Prince Bhelen is not a forgiving type. Your fellow Warden has burnt alive six of the warrior caste. And you will be lucky if he just sentences her to death and not refuse the aid for this war of yours against the Blight."  
  
"The Blight threatens everyone," Alistair hissed. "The gates won't held them back. Millions of darkspawn are rushing under your feet now. I can sense them, hear them."  
  
The aging dwarf sighed as thoughtfully smoothed his hand across his thick, braided beard. "I know, and I came with a proposal. Give me the crown, and I give amnesty for your fellow Warden and our finest troops for your war."  
  
"You are so desperate you would even set free a murderer?" Alistair asked suspicion spiced his tone. "And what about the Prince?"  
  
"He will be treated according to his title, living his life in comfortable solitude," Harrowmont answered. "I have to ensure the continuity of Orzammar's traditions in any cost, according to late king's last wish. Bhelen and his 'revolutionary' ideas would only lead to civil war. Could I count on your assistance?" the dwarf reached out his hand to seal their agreement. Alistair was reluctant to response as if he had a choice. He had nothing but the trust in Harrowmont's words.  
  
The handshake was weak and unsure that decided over the fate of thousands.

* * *

Alistair's armor was covered in blood from head to toe once again as entered Solona's room at the guest wing of the royal palace. He startled in the door seeing she was still sleeping. Wynne was standing over her, channeling healing magic, the creases on her old face became deeper by the worry it radiated.  
  
"How is she?" Alistair asked as strode to the bed.  
  
"She still has subferbrility, but besides that, she seems stable." the old mage answered as ceased her spell and ran her eyes across Alistair's bloodsoaked armor. "Maker, Alistair, what happened?"  
  
"It seems the late Prince Bhelen doesn't handle rejection well," he answered. Alistair swept his eyes across Solona's lifeless body, evoking memories of Ostagar making him twitch. She seemed so calm as her chest moved up and down rhythmically, her mouth partly opened. Sometimes she tensed and relaxed as if pain waved through her body. "Is she in the Fade?"  
  
"Probably," Wynne's answer was stoic as changed the compress on her head. "Alistair, Solona is-" a groan silenced the old mage and movement under her touch. Alistair rushed to her, sweeping away the stray locks from her face. Solona at firs just blinked for long seconds before her eyes opened wide and pushed Alistair's hand aside jumping out from the bed, her her legs sagged and she landed on the stone floor.  
  
"Don't touch me, get away from me," she screamed as escaped toward the furthest corner of the room. Her arms were crossed before her chest; her nails scratched her skin until bruised it. Her breaths were ragged and shallow, the green of her eyes darkened with terror. She was like a cornered and wounded beast.  
  
Alistair took a few steps toward her. "Stop," she begged, her voice drowned into a wail. "I don't want to hurt you anymore, please," the hysterical cry shook her, as she collapsed to the floor and huddled up into a ball. "Just take me back to the Circle. Just let them make Tranquil of me."


	31. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona And Alistair return to Kinloch Hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Suggested Listening: Walk Through the Fire - Zayde Wolf (feat: Ruelle)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WIdJi5IE0P0)

The journey from Orzammar to Kinloch Hold was blessedly uneventful. Aside from some stray groups of darkspawn and maddened wolves they faced refreshingly little resistance. But somehow Alistair found this very disturbing. Like the peace before a storm. A calm moment before everything descended into chaos.  
  
They sat in a boat bringing them to the Circle with Solona and her faithful mabari. The others followed them in another one, escorting a dwarf girl, named Dagna, who begged them to bring her to the Circle. She had been silent since they left the underground city of Orzammar, just as her fever vanished as they reached the surface. But she became a hollow of herself, taciturn, retrieving into catatonia avoiding the slightest touch with others. Her eyes became glassy and inexpressive. She exiled herself into voluntary Tranquility.  
  
Solona watched as the waves of Lake Calenhad crashed to the side of the boat. She sat motionless with a straight back; her hands rested on her lap. Alistair wondered if she became more pallid as the days passed like the embers slowly faded to ashes if there was no fire to feed it, or it was just his imagination.  
  
Barkspawn poked her yowling for her attention. Solona rose her hand to pet the mabari but before he could touch she withdrew it. She hugged herself with a trembling motion rubbing the side of her arms, clutching the fabric of her cloak in a tight grip, her eyes squeezed shut, lips sealed in a thin line.  
  
"Are you cold?" Alistair asked the evidently dumb question, but he had no better one. There were too many in his mind converging it felt better to be unspoken.  
  
Solona shook her head to a no but said nothing just looked on the surface of the water again, straightening her back, placing her hands back on her lap. "You are a warden, Solona, and I won't let them perform the Rite of Tranquility on you. They have no power over you."  
  
She switched her glance on him. Her expression was so cold and emotionless that it sent icy tendrils down Alistair's spine. "I want to be a Tranquil. I came here to undergo the Rite," her voice was monotone without any tinge of emotion.  
  
"I brought you here  to heal, not to make something-"  
  
"Something?" Solona asked back cutting him off starkly.  
  
"Something _irreversible_ ," he finished. "Do you even know what they would do to you? They would take away everything that makes you who you are. Your emotions, your memories, everything." He felt the warmth of worry and terror crept on his face and could only hope she didn't notice. Alistair watched her half-opened hand, the scar across her palm then removed his gloves and stared the one across his own hand, same as hers.  Too many marks were on him caused by her.  
   
"I'm an _abomination_ , Alistair," Solona looked over her shoulder at the water, her reflection on it, then back to Alistair. "And I don't want this anymore. I just want to forget the things I've done. I just want the world forget me."  
  
"And what if the world dont want to forget you?" Alistair asked. "And what about me? Do you want to forget me too?"  He managed to stay her tone calm but his heart hammered so loud he even heard it. Even the breath stuck in him waiting for her to answer. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words disappeared from her tongue. Nothing felt right or appropriate, and nothing felt genuine.  
  
"It is the best for everyone," she said at last.  
  
"Bullshit," Alistair hissed as the boat knocked to the decaying pillar of the pier where the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander waited for them.

* * *

Irving entered his study alongside with Wynne, Greagoir, Solona and her fellow Warden. He stole glances on his former protégé who fixed her eyes on the floor. She seemed dog-tired. There was no unruly sparkling in the emerald green of her irises, no hidden moves to ignite a blaze between her fingers. She was silent, following the others from a respectable distance as the convicted the headsmen to the gallows. She was the last entered, closing the door behind them taking some slow steps forward. Every eye fixed on her as if everyone expected something from her. But she just stood at the door, her hands clasped before her, the green gaze on the mosaic floor.  
  
"Welcome back, my child," Irving greeted Solona moving to hug her, but a gentle touch stopped him. Wynne almost invisibly shook her head to a no as their eyes met with the First Enchanter.  
  
"Thank you, Master," Solona replied not even raising her glance on him. It was her voice, still isn't. It wasn't the girl with two braids who was always so unruly and undisciplined. Whose one smile could wash away her every mischief. He had made a grave mistake. He was sure now.  
  
"I understand you are being indisposed lately," Greagoir stern voice broke his thoughts.  
  
"She needs to rest," Alistair stepped before Solona. Something protective was in that move as if he was ready to kill even the Knight-Commander to keep her safe. Irving thoughtfully examined the Warden, as he shielded her. Alistair rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw in any minute. He glared Greagoir as if he was aware of his intention as Irving knew the moment their boat landed in the dock. "She is a Grey Warden, under the protection of the Order,"  
  
"You don't need to remind me of the ancient treaties, boy," Greagoir raised his voice. "I'm well aware she is a Warden. I was there when she was conscripted. I know better the circumstances than you'll ever do. Still, we have many to discuss, especially the details of her _accommodation_ ," something unspeakably cold shivered down Irving's spine as the last word left Greagoir's mouth. "I suggest you continue this in my office," the Knight-Commander said striding to the door, offering to exit for the young Warden.  
  
Alistair was hesitant to move. He rested his gaze on Solona. This was the first time she lifted her glance from the floor and looked on her fellow Warden. Irving smoothed his beard as watched the two. The unspoken things lingered between them. He saw fear in both the green and the hazel eyes; he saw something that only the ones could see to whom the Maker gave enough years and wisdom to see things as they were. If only they had been another world. If only he had been the father, Solona had deserved.  
  
"Warden," Greagoir stern voice shook the two and Alistair slowly began to take the steps. to the door.  
  
"You should rest, my child. Go to your old dormitory and sleep a bit. We'll have plenty of time to talk later," Wynne asked Solona who without a word, just nodded and left the room, her eyes fixed on the floor once again.  
  
"The Veil is vibrating around her," Irving stated in dry, almost emotionless voice as sat down to his desk. He tried to suppress the feelings trying to overwhelm him. The self-blame that was trying to smuggling poison into his ears.  "She has lost control, hasn't she?"  
  
Wynne strode to the window facing to the too empty training grounds. Irving could never get used to the silence of it. "I knew it was a bad idea. What were we thinking?  We should have taught her how she uses her magic not binding her to something unspeakable to make her more controllable." the old mage felt her anger, Irving could sense it in the small vibration in her voice.  
  
"We had no other option. You and I both know Greagoir-"  
  
"We have _failed_ , Irving," the old mage yelled, spinning to face him, her fists clenched. "She broke the binding magic. It will be the best for everyone if we let Greagoir-"  
  
"Absolutely out of the question," Irving flared jumping up from his desk slamming his hand on the oak surface. "We did what we did to rescue her from the Rite of Tranquility. I won't give up on her. Never."  
  
" _She is dying_ ," Wynne screamed, the tears trickled down her face. "I love this girl as much as you love her, but her magic kills her. She loses her connection to this world and the more she spends in the Fade, the more it swallows her. The Rite could _save_ her life."  
  
"And it would take away everything from her. It is not a life, it is a vegetating," Irving snapped. "What about the boy? I could feel the stable binding energy between them."  
  
"Alistair is just an innocent lad. You can't use him. It is over. Solona herself came here to be a Tranquil."  
  
Irving sat back on his chair leaning back on the backrest. He smoothed his thick beard as measured the old witch. "What is between the two? Her and the Warden?" he asked.  
  
"They are both young fools," she answered.  "Alistair is hopelessly infatuated with Solona. And she... this is different than that Templar-boy was. I think she is in love with him." The First Enchanter hummed thoughtfully. "I know what you are thinking of, Irving," Wynne snapped. "They are really bound, and they share the taint. But this is not a guarantee of anything. He is not a mage. He cannot channel her energies or train her. And more importantly, I do not think any of them is aware of this connection. And it would be the best if this remains this way.”  
  
Irving formed a triangle with his fingers as listened to his fellow mage. His saner and considered self knew what he should have done. But he loved that mage girl too much to give up on her. He still saw a freckled little girl with two ginger, messy braids sitting in her office, daydreaming instead of studying. He broke too many rules for this little girl to fail now.  
  
"You wrote she had brought him back to life. We both know this is impossible. Still, she did the impossible. Blood is the strongest binding," he opened an ornamented box on his desk taking out a tattered parchment handing to his fellow mage, the seal was broken, though still recognizable. "And the boy's blood is one of a kind."

* * *

Solona has slept enough for three lifetimes. So instead wandered the corridors of the empty-looking Circle that still had the smell of dead flesh and gore, though the Tranquils had washed away all the traces of Uldred's madness, the lingering shadows remained, slipping through the cracks of the thinned Veil, telling stories that should have been untold. There was the silence of a tomb in high and empty halls, her every footstep echoed back from the colorful stained-glass windows. She wondered that it had always been like this. Feeling like a huge stone prison, dark, cold and empty.  
  
She passed the library, only a few apprentice and Tranquils remained, their eyes followed her as strode but cast away the moment their glance met. She heard the muffled whispers around her as the mages leaned close as she walked away. Her fingers brushed the spines of the dusty books, and she wondered how many had destroyed during the rebellion. She involuntarily searched for a particular one, the one she once scrounged to learn the constellations during her lonely nights in the astrarium. But she didn't find it, just an empty spot on the bookshelf testified it had been there once. A sad hum had escaped her lips before she turned out from the library to the vast and long corridors again.  
  
Her feet led her through the dormitories, passing some Templars on their duty, mighty and terrifying in their armor with the sunburst sword. They couldn't touch her. Still, she feared them more than even in her childhood. Like the tin soldiers in a playbox placed in neat rows, they all looked the same, being nameless and faceless. She looked for a familiar pair of amber eyes, but even if Cullen was there she couldn't recognize him anymore, but his scent lingered wax and parchment.  
  
She found herself in the chapel. She doubted that she had ever seen it before. So many years trapped within those walls but the first time she saw or recognized the enormous statue of Andraste towering over the main altar.  
  
" _The first of the Maker's children watched across the Veil,_ " the quaky whisper filled the room. Solona snapped her head to the direction of the voice seeing a girl wearing an apprentice robe, kneeling before a side altar, her body swung back and forth as she chanted the well-memorized words, driven forward by undying and maniac faith.  
  
"Keili?" Solona recognized her. The hollowed cheeked girl took a glance at her, her pale-feeling eyes framed with dark circles of exhaustion. She was rather an empty husk than a real person.  
  
" _And grew jealous of the life They could not feel, could not touch,_ " the apprentice returned to her prayers, the nails of her linked fingers dug into her milk-white skin. " _In blackest envy were the demons born._ "  
  
"She doesn't hear you. Or if she does she probably thinks you are a ghost," Solona turned to the voice addressing her. Senior Enchanter Torrin stood there, lighting a candle on the main altar. He seemed strange. She remembered the tone of her skin was darker. They barely spoke when she was an apprentice despite him, her Master and Wynne and was part of the same fraternity and she remembered that she found him often at the office of the First Enchanter.  
  
Solona just realized there were no sisters in the Chapel anymore and she felt a bad feeling erupting in her. "Poor girl, this is her last night in this chapel. Tomorrow Greagoir will lock her into the dungeons with the others he badged 'uncontrollable'," he blew off the flames at the end of the lightning rod and turned to Solona. "The place he will lock you up if you stay here, foolish girl,"  
  
"Where are the Chantry sisters?" Solona asked as tried to swallow the aching knot in her throat. "Is this real?"  
  
The senior enchanter guffawed. "So you can't distinguish reality from visions anymore. There is some poetic justice in this. Uldred was right about you in everything after all,"  
  
"He hated me," Solona snapped." You all hated me. You hated I was better than any you,"  
  
Torrin laughed again. "Nobody hated you. In fact, Uldred had always admired your potentials but found Irving's methods too permissive toward you. You were unique. If you had entered a room, I could have felt the Veil vibrating even in the other side of it. He volunteered to be your mentor. He believed you need more disciplined education than the others to keep your abilities at bay. And when it figured out you are a dreamer he suggested to the First Enchanter to deploy you to the Circle of Minrathous, to learn dreamwalking from the magisters of Tevinter. Free from the bounds and superstitions of the Chantry. But Irving declined him every time and kept you for himself to study you. He was obsessed with you, with your raw magic, " He took a hesitant step to Solona as if he wanted to share the darkest secret of this universe. "Irving, he did something with you. Nobody knew what, but since then I couldn't feel that raw and primal energy of yours, until now."  
  
Solona took some hesitant steps backward, shaking her head, wildly. "No, you are lying. The Master loved me; he would never-"  
  
"I never stated the contrary, Solona," he closed the distance again. Solona subconsciously took a step backward, hugging her arms in a defensive stance. "Irving loved you, more than he should have an apprentice. He protected you, every way he could from the claws of Greagoir who was always eager to perform the Rite of Tranquility on you," he laughed again. "Another poetic justice that he has you now. You offered yourself to him, but he cannot do anything because you are a Warden now, out of his reach," the senior enchanter reached out for her grabbed her chin and drew her glance on him. She tried to get away, but the grip was firm. "Nobody hated you, my child. We hated your privileges. Your immunity. We hated that Irving did anything to protect you, but he let anybody to fall into the claws of the Templars just to not confront with Greagoir." with a rough shove released her. She backed until her back hit a column.  "Do you know what happened to Neria Surana, the apprentice of Uldred?"  
  
"She turned to a blood mage," Solona snarled through her gritted teeth. "I killed her with my own hands."  
  
"That was the result but do you know what was the cause?" Solona shook her head to a hesitant no. "She was raped by a group of Templars. And do you know what your precious Master did?" she shook her head again. "Nothing. That's what he did. And that was the last straw for Uldred. He loved Neria the same way Irving loved you. But Irving did nothing, no matter how he demanded justice. He was blind and deaf as always, sacrificing Neria to keep up a fragile if non-existing peace with Greagoir. And Uldred couldn't endure injustice anymore."  
  
Her breath became erratic as she felt the magic boiling in her. The flames licked her fingers, so she clenched them into a tight fist, trembling by the pain it brought on her. The Grand Enchanter rushed to her grabbing her wrist.  
  
"Don't touch me, please," Solona screamed. She didn't realize until them they were alone in the chapel. Keili had vanished.  
  
"Come on, cast it," Torrin ordered. His voice thundered on the high walls. "It will kill you if you fight against it,"  
  
"Please, release me, I don't want to hurt you," she begged. The enchanter jerked her hand, forcing her to release her fingers. The scar across her palm throbbed and for a moment she could swear she was outside her body, feeling someone else's heart beating. So strange yet so familiar.  
  
" _Cast that spell_ ," she heard the order again. The energy surged through her with elemental power, forming tiny flames in her hand. She screamed in agony as it burned her skin, but the grip around her wrist was steady. "Don't fight against it," the sound echoed, but it soon disappeared in the cacophony ripped her, the voice of the taint calling her, the whizzing of the rushing blood in her ears. But the enchanter didn't release her, not even when the blazes of the candles darted as another shriek burst out from her.  
  
_No one came._  
  
Not a Templar or another mage. No one heard her, not even Alistair to come to help her.  
  
"This isn't real," she wheezed as another wave of pain surged through her. "I'm dreaming," the grip loosened around her wrist, and her spell ceased. She brought her hands to her ears and squeezed her eyes, shook her head violently, yelling to wake up but nothing happened. There were only that tingling feeling of a vanishing magic, evaporating onto the void. She was too terrified to open her eyes. She was petrified, weeping in silence, alone like the first time she stepped through the gates of the Circle for the first time.  
  
A gentle hand reached out for hers, casting a healing spell on her burned skin. "You are not dreaming," Torrin said at last. Solona slowly raised her glance on the enchanter who held her bruised hand, channeling his energies to her. "You are afraid of it, so it hurts you. Until you don't accept it is a part of you, you will never be able to control it."  
  
Solona pushed her back to the column more, tilting her head to face the cross-beam ceiling. "It doesn't matter anymore. I will be a Tranquil," Her voice betrayed her fear and cracked. She took a deep breath before repeated. "I will be a Tranquil."  
  
Torrin hummed as stepped away from her. "Then Uldred was wrong in one thing about you. You have the privilege Uldred, and the others died for. Freedom." Solona snapped her glance on the enchanter who strode to the door of the chapel. He hesitated to leave her. "Even if Irving or Wynne can teach you how to control it, that I seriously doubt, they are not dreamers. They can't dreamwalk like you. So if you changed your mind about the Rite and finished your duty to stop the Blight as a Warden, come and find me, foolish girl. Because you will never find answers within these walls."

* * *

 "I understand you were trained at Bournshire," Greagoir asked Alistair as they entered his office. "Myself was educated there," he chuckled as sat down at his desk.  
  
"I only remember that I always kneeled on dried kernel while Sister Eleanor whisked my hand with her wand because I always missed one line from the Benedictions," Alistair answered settling in a chair.  
  
"The old hag is still alive?" The Knight-Commander guffawed. "She was a century old when I was a recruit."  
  
"Nah, she will survive all of us." they laughed at the suddenly realized common roots, for a moment forgetting why they were there. Alistair had always despised the Templars, their religious devotion. They killed every faith in him the first day he stepped through the doors of that damned monastery. They beat him up, humiliated him to sharpen their character, all in the name of faith so that one day he would do the same with mages under the name of Andraste.  
  
"Oh, good old days," Greagoir wiped out the tear that the laughter smuggled in his eyes. "I wish we could live in those simple times now. But unfortunately, we don't," his tone suddenly changed, and Alistair could swear the room became cooler. "How much you know about your fellow Warden?"  
  
"I know that I have to."  
  
Greagoir stood up and with deliberate steps walked to a bookshelf of registers, searching for a particular one. When he found it went back to his desk and handed to the warden. Alistair looked on the black cover where the strict letters testifying to whom it was about. He opened it.  
  
"Solona Amell was born in Kirkwall, 22 Solis, 9:13 Dragon. Her mother, Revka Amell, deceased. Her father, Agoston Trevelyan, current dwelling place is unknown. She has three brothers, Daylen, Tamas and Barnabas, all mages," as if the Knight-Commander memorized the whole report of her. "The apprentice has unique abilities and strength, far ahead of her coevals. She shows exceptional talent in the field of elemental and healing magic. She has early demonstrated the skills of somniaris. The apprentice is undisciplined, repeatedly violating the rules of the Circle. You can find tens of pages of her rule-breakings," Alistair swiftly leafed through the pages. His eyes stuck on only one section.  
  
_The apprentice seduced and impelled the Templar was charged with monitoring her. (Cullen. S. Rutherford, status: under rehabilitation)._  
  
"She helped a blood mage to escape and destroyed her own phylactery," Greagoir finished her record of crimes. "And now according to the letter Senior Enchanter Wynne sent us, she is responsible for numerous murders throughout Ferelden, if I'm correct she almost killed you. More than once. According to also her Enchanter Amell can't control her magic. We saw her incapability of control earlier too, but thanks to Warden Commander Duncan's conscription she was out of our sight. And someone with her attitude and abilities requires constant monitoring or in extreme cases a final solution."  
  
Alistair with a considered move closed the book and threw it on the desk, right before the Knight-Commander. "You said me nothing new, Knight-Commander," Alistair stated. _"Warden_ Amell is still under the protection of the Order. So the final decision is ours."  
  
"She volunteered to pass the Rite of Tranquility."  
  
Alistair jumped and slammed his hand on the wooden desk, his fingers closing into a fist. "I am the ranking Warden in Ferelden at the moment. And she is merely in the mental situation to make a decision like this. I brought her here to heal, and I strictly forbid you to perform anything on her."  
  
Greagoir's hard lines tensed for a moment before his face became statuesque. He sat down to his desk and with a gesture suggested to Alistair doing the same. The rebellion forced me to reconsider security protocols of the Circle and dissociate the dangerous and uncontrollable elements of Kinloch Hold." The Knight Commander stood up and beckoned the Warden to follow him.  
  
They passed the corridors leading to the underground levels. Alistair just now realized how many Templars guarded the handful of mages remained after the rebellion. He lost track of how low they descended. As they progressed, the air lost its warmth and became cold. The chill seemed to emanate from the very walls of the tower itself. After what appeared to be a long time, they reached a locked door.  
  
What hit him first was the smell. The stench of body odor.  As he entered the large room, he saw a group of people huddled around a small bowl of burning oil. The large area was bare of decoration or furniture although he could see what appeared to be piles of ragtag material that evidently were sleeping places along the walls. Everyone turned to look at them.  
  
Their glance was filled with fear and resignation. Some of the inmates just stared him with glassy eyes.  
  
"I reconsider of the position of every apprentice and mage of this Circle," Greagoir began as swept his eyes across the poor souls. "These mean a threat to the others here. Their mind is broken, or they couldn't learn to control their magic properly. Does it sound familiar, Warden Theirin? The only difference is Solona Amell is a threat for Ferelden."  
  
Alistair’s teeth ground within his tensed jaw. Such savagery disgusted him to his core. He had to gather his all composure to remain calm. He couldn't imagine Solona in this place, huddling in a corner, swinging back and forth chanting something without rhyme and reason. "This is very enlightening, Knight-Commander," he said lastly. "If any faith remained in me for the Maker, this place killed it." he spun on his heals and left that horrid place.  
  
He took his strides angrily, even blindly but still something led him forward, somehow he knew where to go.

* * *

Solona hesitated a lot before entered the astrarium. She relished the view of the distant Frostback Mountains, she almost forgot how beautiful it was, and listened to the echoes of her steps coming back from the crystal dome. There were no stars in the sky for long months now, just ash gray clouds. Still, as the sun sat, she searched for one. She searched the Pole Star, the star that gave guidance for the sailors, the one the believers called the Beacon of Andraste. But she found nothing just grayness. She chuckled on her own sentimentality. Those were just stars, a false haven of a stupid girl.  
  
She stopped in the middle of the place, looking up to the sky once again before drew her glance to her palm. That little girl seemed so distant who cast her first, weak spells here. Or the silly little chit made snowfall for a Templar just to make him love her. As she looked around that place, she considered home felt alien. She didn't belong there anymore. Maybe she never did.  
  
She winced on a sudden noise echoing in the whole astrarium. "Is someone there?" she asked, her voice lightly shaking. The half-opened door creaked, and Alistair entered.  
  
"It's just me," he answered hesitantly walking toward her, Solona taking steps backward in unison.  
  
"Don't come closer, please," she begged, crossing her arms before her chest in a defensive stance. Alistair stopped, looking around.  
  
"So this is where you were hiding," he stated. "I have to admit it is more impressive than mine-"  
  
"I thought you had left. Why are you still here?" she cut him off. Alistair took a step forward, and she took one backward letting a wail escape her lips. Her back humped and she wildly shook her head, not realizing she collided the crystal dome behind her. "Please, I don't want to hurt you, Alistair,"  
  
"You won't," he whispered, taking another step toward her. "You would never do. And I won't leave you in this place."  
  
" _I killed you, Alistair,_ " she screamed, and it finally made him stop. "I felt your heart stopping. I felt you dying in my hands. Just go away, and let the Templars to-" her voice strained.  
  
"They can't do a Tranquil of you, Solona," his tone was calm and soft. She looked away and squeezed her eyes as if she hoped he wouldn't be there when she opened again. "You are a Grey Warden, under the protection of the Order," She shook her head violently, sealing her ears with her hands to not hear his voice. She trembled beyond control.  
  
Two firm hands forced hers from her ears. Fingers entwining hers, a scar over a scar, and a painful heartbeat like it was happening outside her body. "Don't touch me," she screamed. But as she tried to escape, but Alistair quickly trapped her in an embrace.  
  
"You are not hurting me," he said, his voice was almost a whisper in her ears. She still struggled under him, trying to get away, as far as she could to not hurt him or anyone but the grip was steady keeping her in one place. She begged, pleaded him, cursed to release but he was adamant, holding her against his body.  
  
She finally gave up the fight, just burst out in a cry, burying her face against his chest. "Why are you doing this to me?" she sobbed.  
  
She felt his lips brushing her forehead. "Because once I gave up on you. And I was wrong. You were right about the Archdemon in Orzammar, but I refused to listen to you because of my pride," he breathed against her skin. His grip loosened around her, and a finger under her chin lifted her to met his eyes. The hazel irises rimmed with redness. "You are my sister. The only one left for me,"  
  
"I can't control it. And I don't even know how I could," she heaved. He ran his fingers through her hair, sweeping away the always stray locks.  
  
He leaned down to kiss her. His lips were warm and soft. He kissed her slowly, his lips lingering on hers. "We'll figure it out. Together," he breathed into her mouth.  
  
"But-"  
  
He sealed her lips with a finger as touched his forehead to hers. "I'm not giving up on you. So do not dare to give up on yourself."  
  
"Why are you doing this?" Alistair closed his eyes and winced as if in pain, is fingers curled around her hands. She got no answer to her question. "Why?" she asked again. Alistair took a step back, releasing her hand and reaching out the end of her ponytail, playing with it. "I'm nothing but a burden on you, and I hurt you all the time. So why are you not giving up on me? Why are you always coming back?"  
  
Do I really need to answer this question?" he asked, his eyes on the end of her braided hair.  
  
"Yes," she insisted.  
  
His eyes closed as a ragged breath escaping his lips. "Because you see me and I see you the way we are," Solona snapped her gaze on him, her confused green met his crisp hazel. She grabbed her wrist and led her scarred palm on his. "Maker sees my soul I tried to see you like the rest of the world but I can't. I-" his voice trailed off as he looked away releasing her wrist.  
  
"I killed you," Solona whispered.  
  
"And you brought me back to life. It was you," Alistair closed the distance between them. His hand grazed her cheek as he brought it to the back of her neck and drew her in closer until his lips met hers. His kiss was whisper soft, tentative, and slowly lingering. "I have your scars on me, but you know what, they became a part of me, and I don't want to forget them. Ever." He took her her hand facing the scarred palm to her. "Do you really want to forget this? My scar you have? Do you really want to forget, the rose, the snowdrops, and everything? Because for me these things mean the whole world."  
  
Solona shook her head to a no. His furrowed brow relaxed and soft sigh escaped his lips. Slowly he leaned to her, and she met him halfway. "We will figure out this. And we stop the Blight. Together," he promised as he drew her into his arms and held her tight. His arms enveloped her frame and leaned into him, relishing the warmth of her body.  
  
"Let's get out here," He took her hands in his and led her out of the astrarium. Solona followed her, not even looking back to the crystal dome as the door closed behind it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorta declaration of love <3 
> 
> Anyway, any thoughts on the chapter? Please don't hesitate to tell me :)


	32. Training Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After they left Kinloch Hold, Wynne trains Solona to control her magic.

"Breathe. In. Out. Slow and steady."

This was a daily routine of her since they had left Kinloch Hold. Her eyes were shut, inhaled slowly and deeply listened to the voices around her as let her energies flow through her unhindered.

She liked the spring.

As the fresh breezes brought the warmth that melted the icy ground, the sound of the awakening nature, the songbirds as they sought for their mate, as everything came to life around her. She loved the scents the wind brought to her, the blooming flowers, the smell of the earth after a shower. The spring embraced her, and she often found herself humming a melody she knew from her childhood. She couldn't remember who taught it her, only the accords imprinted.

The rain was coming, she could smell it in the air.

"Focus," she heard the reprimand. Her fingers clenched and she hissed as the flickering flames blew out between her fingers, burning her skin. She tried to swallow the pain and focus again. She had to learn how to control it, but she didn't know how to even start. And the more she practiced the more she was sure that nobody knew it. At least not in Ferelden.

She found these training utterly pointless. Finding her inner balance and other nonsenses. She needed answers, a solution, not spiritual enlightenment.

"Open your eyes," she heard the order. Solona couldn't tell how much she stood there in the middle of the vast clearing and meditated. The light was painful as she nictitated to get used to the sudden brightness. And as the blurry figures slowly became clear she saw he usual training dummy before her paled in the ground.

"Thunderbolt," she heard the order. As soon as the spell left her staff it hit back on her, sending electric jolts through her body. She cried out and collapsed, her limbs trembled as the shockwave flashed through her. She heard only a sound of beep in her ears for long moments and blue stars sparks scintillated before her eyes.

"Get up and cast a Winter Gasp," she heard the order. She couldn't. Her legs still shook, it could hardly hold her weight. "Move,"

The voice was merciless. Solona gathered all her strength and stood up on her feet. She tried to concentrate on her breathing, focusing on the training dummy. She clenched and relaxed her fingers to try to get ready the new wave of pain.

"I said, cast the spell," Solona felt something gathering in her throat, a painful lump she couldn't swallow. It brought tears to her eyes and a painful sob left her lips as she cast her ice spell. The frost chilled her fingers. She cried out dropping her staff covering her ice cold fingers with her other hand. She found it interesting how similar pain the ice and the fire could cause. It burned her fingers the same way the flames did.

"Pick up your staff and cast a Fireball," she heard the order again. She felt the anger and desperation rising in her, the tears now trickling down her cheeks in fat virulent. She tried to take the breaths deeply, but every take of air seemed harder than the previous one until she struggled to take even a shallow one. She felt the flames flickering in her hand but he clenched her fingers to blow them out but the more she tried to suppress it, the more it wanted to break free. She could tell blisters rose on her skin.

"I said-"

"I heard you," she yelled. "But I  _can't_ ,"

"Cast that spell, Solona," the order rang in her ears as an adamant echo. The tears stung her eyes and made her vision blurry. the flames rose in her hand again, rampaging.

"I can't control it," she screamed.

"I said-"

" _Enough_ ," Alistair's voice thundered, filling the whole meadow near Denerim, so loud even the songbirds had silenced. He strode to her, taking her hand into his. Solona felt her energies calm down in her veins by his touch. Alistair's eyes were on her angry red and blistered palm. "You push her too hard," he hissed.

Wynne walked to them channeling some healing energy on Solona's abused skin. She gasped in relief as her tissues regenerated. "We don't have the luxury of time, Alistair."

"It doesn't work, don't you see?" Alistair raised his voice. The old mage ceased her spell. Solona's skin was intact again except the scar across her palm.

"Merely a few attempt is not enough. Solona knows that too. Mastering advanced elemental magic needs persistence," Wynne's voice was soft, not that merciless and adamant as it still rang her ears.

"How many times she has to try? Her bruises are worse with every practice,"

"As many as it takes. Alistair, please. I've trained generations of mages-"

"Don't talk about me like I wasn't here," Solona burst out. Both her fellow Warden and the old mage silenced. "I'm not a subject of experiments, nor a porcelain doll," she freed her hands from Alistair's holding with a fierce move and strode away.

"The practice is not over, Solona," Wynne cried after her. She stopped and clenched her fingers and relaxed again.

"It is. I'm not getting anywhere, so I do some duel practice instead," she declared. "It has more sense than any of this."

Wynne shook her head and released a resigned sigh. "We shall return to this later then, my child," the old mage turned to Alistair and beckoned him to follow her.

Solona headed to her tent, passing the Templar, who guarded her. His name was maybe Carroll, but she couldn't remember. Their glance met for a moment. His lyrium hazed eyes never left her, obedient like a trained puppy. His hand was on the hilt of his sword, always ready to strike for the first signs of falling. It was a deal over her head. Like her conscription was a deal over her head. People always tried to save her life without asking her if she even wanted it. They had always told her she was special or dangerous, depending which side they were on. But they never bothered to ask her if she wanted to be special or that she wanted this power.

She reached out for her daggers she used to practice with Zevran. The Templar watched her every move.

"Don't worry, I won't kill anyone," no answer came, he just stood there motionless, staring her, his hand on the hilt, ready to strike. "I wonder, what happened with Knight-Lieutenant Rutherford after I corrupted his mine. I haven't seen him in the Circle," she got no answer. A smug appeared on her face."It was nice to chat with you. You Templars are always so nice with my kind. Just ask Uldred." she turned away, taking a few steps away then turned back. "Wait, you can't. I _killed_ him and ended the rebellion. Wasn't it supposed to be your job?"

Again her answer was silence, just the fingers tightened more around the hilt. She snorted. "Do you have an order to kill me? Or Greagoir just want to intimidate me?"

She took some bold steps toward her guard, measuring him with. She could have cremated him with a single spell. He wouldn't have even time to cast a Smite on her. She watched the purple bags under his jaded eyes, the muscular, still somehow miserable looking build of his body. They were both trapped in their own prisons. They were both being slowly consumed by something they couldn't control.

"Greagoir has no right to order my execution unless I practice forbidden magic. In fact, Wardens have the right to use blood magic but we bargained it for some few of your kind and my kind, Who knew I could be that valuable batgain chip. I worth a whole Circle of Templars and mages."

She took her obsidian dagger and closed her fingers around the blade. "You know what, let's get over this. I perform a blood ritual, summon a demon and you will have a cause to use that sword of yours. You could return as a hero. I'm sure the Knight-Commander would awarrd you some medal. The Templar who finally killed the Fiery Witch, the mage who escaped from the justice of the Chantry. The untouchable Grey Warden."

She tightened her fingers around the blade, feeling as it into her flesh. It was strange but she couldn't feel pain. Carroll's eyes seemed mesmerized by the thick red blood trickling down her arms, tainting her shirt to red.

"I can only do that the Knight-Commander ordered me, I have nothing to do with you personally," Carroll whined, still, his voice felt monotone, infused with the scent of lyrium. "I don't have to listen to you. I'm doing the Maker's will, the path I chose."

Solona hummed as relaxed her fingers around her dagger. She walked to him and pied off the blood on her tabard. He was still motionless just his eyes followed the motion. "You Templars are so good and obedient puppies. But at least you had a path to choose," she turned on her heels and walked away.

_She should have stayed in Kinloch Hold._

* * *

_"What is the meaning of this?" Greagoir's voice thundered back from the high walls of Kinloch Hold as with Wynne and Irving and some of his remained Templars rushed to the main hall to stop them. Solona shook as the echo reached her. Alistair stepped before her as a shield to protect her. His hands were on the pommel of his sword._

_"I'm taking her away from here," the Warden declared._

_"Who gave a permission to you to do it?" the Knight-Commander yelled while his subordinates closed a circle around them._

_"I don't need your permission. She is a Grey Warden. I brought her here to heal, not to be locked up like an animal," Alistair took her hand and strode to the gates. until they crashed with the Templars around them. "You have no power over her. Release us and we leave peacefully. No one has to die, Greagoir."_

_"Don't you remember anything about your training, son? She is a fired made flesh. She has too many sins that even her role to stop the rebellion can't redeem. She corrupted you as corrupted the best of my men," the Knight-Commander turned to Solona. "Do you remember Cullen? The one you seduced? He was my best. He could have been my successor in Kinloch Hold. You drove him into madness. After the rebellion he screamed your name in his fevered dreams over and over again until he had no more voice or strength," Solona couldn't stand Greagoir's blaming glare, so tried to find a safe spot to settle her eyes on. She suddenly heard whispers from the other side of the thinned Veil, calling her an ' **abomination'** , echoing around her like a faded but once well-known voice. She felt herself light, drifting far away from this world. It magnetized her._

_"She saved this place," Alistair yelled._

_"Even **you**  know she is dangerous. or you would never have brought her here to seek our help. You were a Templar once. How could you let this stand?"_

_Alistair snorted. "I had never wanted to be a Templar. I had never chosen that life I had to live. The first one who has ever offered me a choice died in Ostagar, " he took Solona's hand again. The voices suddenly silenced and her far away mind snapped back. She squeezed his hand to be sure it was real, not just a returning game of her mind._

_The Templars still blocked the way, their swords were drawn, pointed to them. Alistair released a laughter. "We are the only Grey Wardens in Ferelden. The only ones who can stop the Blight. Do you really want to kill us?"_

_"You and your companions can go away freely. But by the power given to me by the Chantry and the Maker, I place Solona Amell stays under the full control of the Templars."_

_Alistair drew his sword, just as Zevran behind them, Solona twitched by the metallic sound of the blades as it left their scabbards and fragments of images flashed before her. Blood-soaked battlefield and rotting corpses. "Over my dead body," the Warden growled. The blazing rage in his eyes had told everything to Greagoir he had just suspected before._

_Greagoir sighed as shook his head. " You are a fool, son. And the Templars won't support fools." And as the last word left his lips he also drew his sword._

_" **No** ," Solona yelled as jumped between the two. She raised her hands on both of them in each of her palm a fireball was forming._

_"You vile demon, how dare you conjuring magic on me?" Greagoir hissed. "I should kill you right here, all of you-"_

_"Enough of bloodshed," she cut him off, gathering all her willpower to keep her spell in control. It hurt more than ever before. "I'm sick of it."_

_"Solona-" Alistair exclaimed._

_"I said **enough!** " she screamed. "I stay here, just let them go free."_

_"Greagoir," Irving run to them, shielding Solona with himself. "Solona is a Grey Warden, you have no right to imprison her."_

_"You biased, old man," the Knight-Commander scoffed. "She misleads you all with her innocent looking. But I always saw through her. How many times I told you  she was dangerous? But you always found the loopholes to protect her. And you've only earned she helped a blood mage to escape," his sword still pointed to the two Wardens._

_"I know she is unstable. I've always known, but I loved her too much to admit," the First Enchanter answered. "Maker sees my soul I should have let you perform the Rite on her years ago. I would probably do if I could turn back time. It would have been better to everyone," the old mage went to Solona, putting his hand on her arm forcing her to lower it and blow out the flames in her hand. Her green eyes raised on his former mentor, the kind warm eyes framed with deep wrinkles. Irving measured his daughter-like protégé, and a soft smile appeared at the side of his mouth."You are right. She is too dangerous to be left unsupervised."_

_"Irving-" Wynne exclaimed but Irving silenced her with a gesture._

_The old mage's eyes were still on Solona. There was something unreadable in his eyes that made her confused." I've neglected my duties for too long because of rebellion was my fault. But not you nor I have the authority to imprison her or make Tranquil of her. But we can stipulate conditions in return for our help in the Blight."_

_The First Enchanter turned to the Knight-Commander. They glared each other for long minutes as heavy silence descended on the ancients wall of Kinloch Hold. Solona could swear she heard not only her own heart racing but Alistair's, in unison with her own._

_Finally, Greagoir lowered his sword. "Fine. Let's make a deal."_

* * *

Solona landed on the base of her spine soon followed her head colliding with the ground with an audible thwack. She knew it would have left bruises on her. But a few more, it didn' matter.

She should have got on her feet immediately and counter-attack as Zevran taught her, but the fresh grass bed of the meadow felt so soft and inviting, just as the silky rays of the midday sun. She closed her eyes and saw fragments of memories of a little girl with messy braids playing and singing under the giant oak tree. It has been the first time since then she felt the scent of the dewy grass in her nostrils and wanted to savor every ounce of it.

A shadow towered over her, blocking the light. She blinked to see the slender elven figure with the long golden hair, the sly grin and glimmering honey eyes looking down her. "My, my, dear Warden. If I didn't know you I would understand this as an invitation to a dance."

"That would be a truly regrettable mistake, assassin," she snickered.

"Ah," he answered with a dramatical sigh. "You are crushing the sweetest dreams of men. But in that case-" the elf drew his daggers and pointed to her throat. "-You are dead."

A wide grin appeared on her face as noticed the position of his legs. "No, if an Antivan Crow is your tutor." She kicked his legs and made him fall on the ground. And before Zevran could react she reached for her daggers, jumped upon the lying Zevran and crossing the blades at his throat. "Youare dead," she smirked.

The assassin chuckled, the melodiousness of it filled the forest. "You are getting better in this, but still not good enough," he grabbed her wrist and shoved her to the ground, and now he was upon her, the blades crossed at her throat. "You do not learn from your mistakes, little minx. We've been here once. Last time I stole a  _kiss_. Maybe I should claim a reward again," he purred. Solona looked away, the heat of shame and embarrassment flushed her cheeks. A velvety chuckle left his lips.

_Since when she became a blushing maiden?_

Zevran's glance lingered on her lips a bit more than it would have been appropriate before he lowered his weapons and stood up. He was helping her to get on her feet. "You know, Warden," he began as swept the dirt from his attire. "I always love to spend time with you, especially writhing in the grass improperly close to each other, and do never consider this as a complaint, but shouldn't you practice magic instead?"

Solona growled. "I'm going nowhere with Wynne's methods. She tells me to empty my thoughts to focus on my inner balance but whenever I try-" the words stuck in her and she released a frustrated sigh. "I just don't feel that would be a solution. But nobody listens to me. Wynne says it is a proven method. Alistair says she pushes me too hard. They are fighting over my head since we left Kinloch Hold."

The assassin hummed. "And what do you say, Warden?"

"I think... the truth is, I'm scared to conjure a spell. Whenever I try I just see the people I scorched to death, battles a fought, I see Alistair lying lifelessly in the Deep Roads-" her words drowned into a wail. She swept the bubbling tears from her eyes and tried to swallow her urge of cry. "I find it impossible to empty my thoughts." she snickered although she found nothing funny in it. "I don't have inner balance. Wheneveer I try I only find remorse and horror."

Zevran sat on a stump thoughtfully listened to her as cleaned the blade of his daggers. He hummed and hawed from time to time but never broke the flood of her words. When she shrank into silence he finished to polish his weapon and took them away. He observed the mage girl. as she nervously ran her finger across her fiery looks, as her bloodshed eyes glistened in the tears of desperation. "Do you have a fear of high, Warden?" he asked. His voice was surprisingly stoic. Solona snapped her eyes on him. His expression was blank and unreadable. She shook her head to a no. "I heard the cathedral is stunning in Denerim. Even more beautiful than the one in Val Royeaux."

Solona giggled. "I seriously doubt it. Ferelden is everything but extravagant."

Zevran stood up, clearing his throat. "Not important. We reach Denerim by nightfall and we shall meet there tomorrow at dusk for an-" he savored his words before they left his mouth. "An  _irregular_  training."

Solona smirked. "I hope nothing blasphemous."

The assassin tittered as strode to her. "Only blasphemous things," he purred into her ears. He looked over her shoulder noticing the shadow standing in the benevolent concealing of the trees. The hazel eyes narrowed as his lips brushed her hair, and heavens knew why but some weird satisfaction warmed him. "Don't be late," he breathed as stepped away from him, leaving her.

Solona waited until Zevran disappeared behind the trees before turned to Alistair. "How long you've been here?"

He stepped out from the shadows of the trees. "More than I should have, I guess. You are closer than I thought," he growled and looked away for a moment. "Did you hear me?"

"I sensed your taint," she stated dryly. "Look, Alistair, I don't have a mood for a lecture that I should practice with Wynne instead, or about my friendship with Zevran-"

"I didn't come for any of this," he cut her off. Solona frowned. "Though, considering everything we've been through, you at least owe me at least some explapnation... but not today. We are going forward. You and me. The others join us tomorrow in Denerim." It wasn't a matter of discussion. It was a statement of his. Simple and unquestionable. His voice was flat, almost emotionless still absolute. "Two geared mount wait for us in the camp."

"Why?" she asked her tone tinged with confusion.

Alistair clasped his hand behind his back. This was the moment she realized he was not in his armor but a simple leather trousers and shirt. His sword was attached to him by a simple belt. "You've been called so many things - we've been called so many things - since Ostagae I can't even follow. But I think amid all this Blight and civil war we have less and less chance to be that we really want to be." He handed her a bag full of clothes.

A simple peasant attire. An olive green dress with a white apron, clean but worn at some places. A light hooded cloak, same color of the dress.

"We've never been  _normal people_."


	33. Normal People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I missed this one. Sorry. I'll try to post it as soon as possible.

Missing chapter.


	34. Something Old and Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair tries to deal with some of his emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an NSFW chapter.

Everything felt silent. Despite the busy sounds of the Market. Despite the sharp voice of the cook who scolded the kitchen maids as always. Despite the constant barking of the dogs in the kennels. But Alistair heard nothing but his quickening heartbeat, the pulsation of blood in his ears and as the metallic round of blade of his sword as crashed to the training dummy, stronger and louder every time. He grunted with every strike every time louder until he roared and with a last forceful strike the dummy collapsed. He stood over it, among heavy breaths of his rage watching his handiwork.

His fingers clenched around the hilt of his sword, as his throat tightened and the water gathered in his eyes. He was an idiot who believed in fairy tales. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It would have been joyful or at least pleasant. He should have found there a loving sister, not a bitter and disillusioned bitch. He believed that he could have had a happy family, he could have got something for the wasted years, but nothing. He had nothing to a loving family. He had nobody. He was alone in the whole world again and he was fed up with it. He was fed up he ha nothing.

A soft touch on his shoulder, a hand sliding down his arm, taking the sword from his hand, dropping it to the ground. The world became loud and harsh again. An ugly place as it usually is. Fragile arms coiled around his waist, and soft and hot lips pressed a kiss on his shoulder-blade. There was nothing sensual in that move, just deep and understanding condolence. And this just made him more furious.

“I’m sorry Alistair,” Solona breathed against his sweat-soaked shirt. “I don’t know what to say.”

Alistair touched her embracing hands, taking it into his. He turned her palm facing him, watched the scar across it. He ran his finger over it feeling his heart beating like it was out of his body. He felt her wincing behind him. “You don’t have to say anything. I appreciate what you have done for me.”

Solona was with him all way long, listened to his sister harsh words, And she did nothing. Just stood there and listened. He wasn't sure what did he expected from her. Maybe nothing. Maybe to burn down that shack reeking in the odor of sweat and bleach. “At least I know the truth now,” he said bitterly. “Nobody needs me. They need my name or blood or money, but never me.”

“That's not true," she whispered, still brushing his shoulder-blade with her lips. Her body pressed to his, and her arms became tight around his waist.

Alistair freed himself and turned to her, propping her chin, making her look at him. “Really, do you need me? You can conceal it quite well. And what will happen when you don’t need me anymore.” he hissed. He was angry at the whole world, at Solona’s gentleness. And he couldn’t tell why but he wanted to hurt her.

“That’s not what you think.” Alistair grabbed her wrist forcefully, yanking her to him. Her face was inches from his, feeling the vapor of his breath on his skin. His fingers held her painfully, knowing that it would leave angry red marks behind. Was that really love? That he wanted to hurt her?

“What will happen when the Blight is over? What will happen when we don’t fight for our lives and see things clear? What will happen when one day you can control your power? What will happen if I have to sit on that bloody throne?” His questions, the things that his disastrous encounter with his sister brought to the surface now all poured on her. And he slowly realized it wasn’t her sister who made him angry. It was just one more thing on his list in what he ceased to believe. “If you are so smart knowing everything, enlighten me. What should I think?” And he dropped her wrist roughly, pushing her away from him.

“Alistair,-“ she bit the end of it, looking away and squeezing her eyes shut, biting her lips.

“What?” Alistair roared. “We are just running these circles for a time now Solona. And this is pointless. I want answers already?”

“Because… because…” she heaved, battling with herself. Alistair wanted to see her pride collapsing. He wanted to her those words from her lips. He wanted some certainty.

Solona released a small sob as bit her lips. “Because you are my brother. You are the only one I can rely on,” she said lastly.

Alistair stepped closer to her, so close his lips almost touched hers. “And what will happen when I have to sit on that throne and giving up being a Grey Warden?” He hissed.

“I don’t know.” her answer was weak and low.

He leaned over Solona’s ear. His skin touched hers. How could he hate her and love her so much at the same time? “Then tell me when you do.” And he gave her a strong shove backward and left her alone at the Courtyard.

Halfway he stopped, filled with guilt. He was looking back at her as she stood there unmoving the tears streamed down her face in virulent. He wanted to apologize, wanted to say everything was right but he couldn't. He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't pretend everything was right. He just turned to the door again and stomped inside the escape to find a quiet place to hide away from the whole world.

* * *

  _He always had his hiding places._

Both in the castle of Redcliffe both at the estate in Denerim. There was a little secret compartment in the library. It was so big when he was a little boy. now he could barely stretch his legs. He felt funny how different the world was back then. When he played hide and seek with the little elf girl, the daughter of a handmaiden. He remembered when they scrounged some cheese and grape juice from the kitchen and in the dim light of a candle they mimicked Lady Isolde and the nobles who often attended on feasts when the Guerrins dwelled in Denerim. He wondered what happened with that girl. Lady Isolde drove her and her mother away one day, send them back to the Alienage without any explanation. Alistair always thought it was his fault. He wanted to escape to the Alienage to find her but the next day they went back to Denerim where the Templars waited for them to take him away to the monastery.

His eyes fixed on a carving on the stone wall. _Alistair + Kaillan._

Another thing life stole from him.

He reached out to touch the roughly carved letters when the door slammed. He opened the door of his hiding place a little to saw who came in.

"Solona, you are not ready for a thing like this. You can barely control it in our world," Wynne's voice was unusual. Loud and disapproving.

"We are running out of time," Solona cut her off.

"The Fade destroys you. We could barely bring you back last time you stuck there."

"Alistair brought me back," she yelled. "And it was different. I want to descend, I have to. I'm meditating anf practicing for weeks now and there is almost no progression. It is just a waste of time. I need answers now,"

"Solona, I can't allow this." Wynne sounded final. Solona raised her blazing eyes on him, taking a few, threatening steps toward the old mage. Alistair instinctively reached for his sword. and was ready to break out from his concealment.

"I didn't ask your permission, Senior Enchanter," she hissed. Alistair saw the flames flickering between her fingers. Wynne was unmoving and unblinking. "I made a statement," she said as stopped before her.

"Carroll would kill you before you could finish the ritual," Wynne's voice was calm and caring. The old mage took her hand in hers. "It won't help to protect him, but it will kill you. If not the Templar, the Fade itself." She moved away some stray locks from Solona's face. "You have magic most mage only can dream of. Irving has risk everything so you can be free. And you want to thank him like this?"

Solona looked away pouting. Heavy silence descended on the library. Alistair's eyes fixed on Solona, as the fingers of her free hand clenched into a tight and trembling fist. "I don't want to hurt him anymore," she breathed.

The old mage hugged her and whispered something into her ear, Alistair couldn't hear. She didn't respond the old mage's touch just stood there struggling to choke back her tears.

"Lady Amell," Teagan's voice scattered the two mages. The noble slowly walked toward them and stopped in a respectable distance as the etiquette demanded. "I'm sorry to disturb you: Should I come back later?"

"Absolutely not," Wynne replied, her words candied. "We have just finished our talk, haven't we, my child." Solona nodded uncertainly and a soft smile curved at the side of the old mage's lips. "I won't bother our Warden anymore. Just remind her about the training at dusk." Solona nodded again not looking at her, just starring in the distance. Wynne smiled and walked away.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted your training, my Lady, but I was hoping we would have some time before dinner."

Solona cleared her throat still her voice was a bit hoarse and shaky. "I'm all yours, Bann Teagan," She forced a smile on her face.

There was a package in Teagan's hand, he placed from his one hand to another. His chuckle was tinged with nervousness. "Only Teagan, please. And you honor me, Solona."

Alistair snapped his eyes. Uncle Teagan was always the man of formalities, giving respect everyone, never calling anyone by their first name outside the family. Well, except servants of course, but this kind of disrespect was the privilege of nobility.

"Arl Eamon would like to have a meeting after dinner. The Landsmeet-" Solona cluttered.

"I didn't want to speak with you about the Landsmeet or the Blight. The thing I wanted to talk about is more... personal."

"Oh," Solona raised one of her elbows and grabbed it. She looked away, her eyes searching for the spot to settle before returning to Teagan. Her fingers brushed her skin of her side of her arms arm up and down. "What can I do for you?"

Teagan without a word handed the package to her. She untied the twine around in and carefully tore the wrapping paper. She gasped. 

It was a book. Solona stared the cover and  Alistair saw her green eyes sparkling by the tears gathering in her eyes. Her lips turned to a soft smile as her finger run over the letters on the cover.

"I heard you like astronomy," Teagan said at last. Solona nodded trying to choke back her tears by biting her lips. "When I was younger I also liked to gaze stars. This book was my favorite," Alistair saw the blush creeping on his uncle's face. His fingers closed in a fist as he perceived where things would have led.

"I know this one," her voice creaked as opened the book and leafed through the pages. "I learned the constellation from this. It destroyed in the rebellion."

Teagan took a cautious step toward her. "I heard about it. The First Enchanter sent notes to the nobles to donate books for the library of the Circle to replace the ones perished. I'm willing to give them a significant part of my private collection."

"It is very generous of you, Bann Teagan." Solona snuggled the book to himself.

"But this one is a rare and precious book, It has so many beauties in it and doesn't deserve to get dusted on a shelf of a library," Teagan took another step toward her. Her eyes swept across her. Solona looked away. She glanced back briefly then looked away again and stared the floor. Alistair saw she took her breaths deep and controlled, saw as the embarrassment painted her freckled cheeks pink. "It deserves someone who matches to its beauty."

Teagan stepped one more, closing the distance between them. He leaned to her and pressed a light kiss on her lips.

Alistair wanted to scream. He wanted to break out from his hiding place and kill his uncle, beat him until the last breath of life left his body. He wanted to draw his sword and stab it through him. He wanted to kill him for touching her. He felt as jealousy rushed blood into his ears and for a moment he heard nothing else but his rapid heartbeat. Was that really love? That he wanted to kill someone he respected for her?

Solona broke away and took a step back before strode to the desk of the Arl and carefully placed a book on it and smoothed her fingers over the cover one last time. "I'm truly flattered, Bann Teagan, but I'm afraid you misunderstood something. You have all my respect and appreciation to you but I doubt I could return your feelings the way you desire it."

"Because of Alistair, isn't it?" he asked.

Solona didn't respond just approached the window. Alistair felt his heart hammering in his chest. From his hiding place he couldn't see her, so he dared to open the door of the compartment a bit more to make her face visible.

"He can't give you that you want or that you deserve. You are a mage, Solona. If everything goes well on the Landsmeet he will be the new king. Even if he loves you, he cannot marry you."

"It doesn't matter," Solona said as leaned on the window frame. She stared something in the distance. Her face was emotionless. Unblinking "It doesn't matter how I feel or not feel for Alistair." Alistair felt like a dagger twisted in his heart. "And it doesn't matter how he feels or not feels for me. No one should love me, especially Alistair. He will become a king. And I will remain a filthy mage. The world never changes." She turned to Teagan again. "I've never deserved love." She walked across the library to him. He stopped a few steps before him.

"That is not true," Uncle Teagan whispered. "I could give you a warm and cozy home and title."

"You don't know what you really wish for. I'm a curse on everyone I love. And Alistair deserve happiness. You deserve happiness. I can't give that to Alistair without hurting him. And  I can’t give that to you in any other way than as your friend." Solona stretched her arm toward him. "Will you allow me to be that? I wish you would.”

Teagan released a sad smile as accepted her gesture. "Thank you," she breathed as turned on her heels to the door.

"Lady Amell," Teagan cried after her. "You forgot your book."

She turned back. "I can't accept your generous gift, Bann Teagan," she replied.

He chuckled as took the book and handed to her. "It is a gift for a friend. This book is very precious to me. And I know at you, it is in the best hands," She raised her green eyes on the noble and smiled softly and nodded before turned away again and left.

Teagan stood there a bit absently ran his fingers through his hair, stomped up and down before a servant came and reminded him of the dinner. He nervously nodded and left.

Alistair didn't know how long he was in that compartment, staring the carving on the stone wall. He felt he was floating, like everything that made him human left his body and left nothing else but a mindless husk. There was silence around him as if the whole world ceased for a moment. As if he left that world for a moment.

* * *

_It was far after midnight._

Alistair tossed and fussed in his bed sleeplessly heard the soft steps stopping at his door. He instinctively reached for his sword as the door opened. He saw the dancing shadow of flames coming in, and soon she stepped in, a tiny flame flickering in her hand, shining like a beacon in that starless and pitch dark night.

He stared Solona as she stopped after the door closed behind her, uncertain to move, just looking at him, the green of her eyes sparkling as reflected the flames in her hand. Her hair in a messy braid thrown over her shoulder was like a cascade of fire. She was like a ghost, an echo coming to haunt him.

They watched each other silently Maker knew how long when she finally moved and lit the candles of the room, enveloping everything into a dim and warm light.

“You can control it,” Alistair stated softly.

Solona shrugged. “Sometimes I can but most of the time not. It is easier with fire. It is always easier with fire,” she ceased the spell in her palm ghosting over the flame of the last candle she lit. “When I was younger I thought it can’t hurt me, that we are one and undividable. I thought I can rule it because it comes from me. How uppity and prideful I was. Nothing can tame the fire, nothing."

She was with her back to him. Alistair sat up on his bed more, leaning on the headboard. “And now?”

“Something is always trying to consume me. If not a demon then my magic. If not my magic then the taint in my blood. I’m doomed, Alistair. Flemeth told me I have a greater role than defeating the Blight. But what if I don’t want all this? What if I don’t want to bear a power like I have? What if the only thing I want is a simple life? What if I want to give all this magic back?”

Alistair slowly got up and strode to her. The anger he felt toward her, the things he wanted to throw to her head vanished as if hey had never existed. As he touched her, feeling her warmth through the thin fabric of her nightgown. His hand glided down on her back, following the line of her spine, resting at the small of her back. “I can’t deny who I am as you can’t deny who you are. What would happen when the Blight ended you asked. You will sit on the throne because you are the rightful heir.” Her voice was flat and unblinking. Her fingers danced over the flame, caressed it. “We can live in self-delusion but -”

Alistair with a sharp move embraced her from behind, so close he felt her taking an erratic breath. “Don’t say it, please.” he breathed against her hair. “I could stay with the Wardens. I could leave the throne to Anora…”

He felt her head slowly shaking to a no. “As I could pass the Rite of Tranquility to get rid of my magic… I wanted to do it but it would be no better than death. Anora would kill you the first time she had an opportunity.”

“But I don’t want this. I want to be a Warden. I want you,” he tightened his arms around her.

“Alistair-“

He spun her facing him, seeing the virulent of tears glistening on her freckled cheeks. “I want _you_ ,” he said again more intent deepening his fingers into her skin. Her silence was his response.

“I LOVE YOU!” he cried out to the desperate stillness. Solona raised her tear-streaked eyes on Alistair. “Just tell me, you don’t need me, you don’t want me, you don’t love me and I will gladly marry Anora after the Blight is over.” She looked away, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to gulp her urge of cry. Alistair grabbed her chin, stronger than he should have and yanked her glance back at him. “T _ell me_!” he growled. “Just once, tell me what you want or feel. Just one fucking time.”

He felt her breath quickening, her lips trembling, her eyes wandering away from him. Alistair’s free hand grabbed her wrist drawing her close to him, so close their bodies crashed. “TELL ME!” he demanded.

“I can’t…” Solona mouthed, but no voice came out.

“Why?” he hissed, closing his fingers around her wrist forcefully, feeling her rapid pulse. Why did he want to hurt her as much as he wanted to protect her? Why he hated her as much as he loved her? Why he wanted to kill for her and in his most insane moments wanted to kill her?

She didn’t answer, just a desperate sob escaped from her lips. “Just once, swallow your pride and answer me honestly.”

Her hot tears trickled down her cheeks to Alistair gripping hand. “Don’t make me…”

“I’m fucking tired of this, Solona,” he yelled tightening his fingers more around her wrist, knowing he caused her pain, but it was nothing comparing the agony he felt in his soul. He wanted to hurt her, it was frightening how much. “I’m fucking tired of running these circles. I'm fucking tired of you let me close and toss me away over and over again. So answer me. Why?”

“Because I love you.” she cried out, her voice drowned into a wail. Alistair released her and she dropped a step backward. “But what my love brought on you, nothing else but pain.” she pulled up the sleeves of his shirt making the scars visible on his forearm. “Look at this “She yelled lifting his arm and dropping,” I did this. I. I almost killed you because I couldn’t control my magic-” her voice trailed off and she looked away.

Alistair grabbed her chin again, this time gently, forcing her to look at him, his thumb brushing against her watery cheeks.

“These are just scars. I've already told you this but you never listen just telling yourself and me the same things over and over again, meanwhile I feel there's no more time for us with the Landsmeet and above all this and it makes me furious that you act like it doesn't matter if we're together or not?"

"It's not true-"

"You told it to Teagan." He yelled so loud that Solona shook by his voice. "You said it didn't matter what you feel or not feel. So you know what, it matters. For _me_ matters more than this Landsmeet, more than this whole blasted kingship.”

He closed the gap between them, releasing her chin and reaching the end of her ponytail, playing with it, now he was the one who couldn’t look at her. “I find myself every day falling for you, wanting you, your body, your soul… everything. I need you—“ He takes a slow breath and squeezes his eyes shut. “I need you to tell me what you want. Not what your rationality tells you or the demons whisper into your ears. I want to hear what _you_ want.”

Solona pressed her lips to his softly caressing to his. “I want you, Alistair," she kissed him again, this time deeper, softly biting his lips. Alistair felt the rage suddenly left him and something else took its place, something equally bursting and consuming, something equally primal.

Suddenly his motion froze and broke away from her and he slowly stepped backward. Solona frowned, her glance baffled, "What's wrong?"

“Are you sure you want to do it? With me of all people?” Alistair asked, his eyes serious as he scanned hers for any sign of doubt or unease. He found none.

Solona nodded, but her eyes questioning. "Why? You forced me to say things and now you want to back off?"

"O-Of course I not," he muttered. "B-but I've never done this before. And I don't know... I want this, I want you, more than anything, but I... Ah, Maker's breath." Alistair turned away from her, nervously raking his hair, trying to rest his eyes on something as padded his way over to sit at the edge of the bed. "I know it sounds incredibly stupid but I wanted it to be perfect. But I guess it will never be perfect. But I know I want it to be with you. While I have a chance to do it." With a nervous sigh, he dropped his head between his shoulders. "Does this make any sense?"

He heard the creaking of the floorboards. Slowly, timidly, Solona came closer, until they were only inches apart unlacing her nightgown letting it fall to the ground, leaving her stark naked before him. Alistair looked up looked through her curves, his breath stuck in his lungs.

Of course, he knew things. In the monastery, they often talked about these things with the other recruits. Of course, he saw a woman naked knew everything he had to do but as she stood before her, the light of the flames dancing on her bare skin and reflected in her green eyes like he forgot everything. Alistair's fingers stretched toward her but before he touched her skin he stopped. Just ghosted over it, relishing the warmth of her body. He was frightened to do anything.

"Maker's breath but you are beautiful." he heaved.

"Shhh." Solona hushed him taking her finger before his lips soon replacing with her lips. "Just touch me," she whispered into his mouth pressing his hands on her hips. His finger trailed up on her waist and ribs lightly and she shivered under his touch involuntarily. Alistair leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss under the navel. His hands rested under her breasts. His heart hammered in his chest.

His thumbs hesitantly grazed over her nipples and she sucked in a gasp. He watched her face, her sweet reactions, the way her lashes flutter closed. Once more and she moaned and Alistair rushed to stand up and kiss her before the sound could escape from her lips. He kissed her long and breathless before his lips moved down to her chin, then her neck, tasting the sweetness of her skin.

Solona grabbed his shirt and began to pull up. "Take this off," she breathed. Alistair was eager to obey and she was more eager to help him to lift it up past his head and over his shoulders. She looked over his body, brushed her fingers down his chest and abdomen over the line of hair until she reached his navel. There were love and tenderness in her every touch, the way her warm hands skimmed over him until she reached the side of his breeches and below, slipping in it. Alistair groaned and buried his face into her shoulder, drawing her as close as he could to himself.

How many times he imagined this while touched himself. Her doing this. There was tenderness in her ever touch as she ran her fingers over his skin. He felt he could explode right there under her touch. He wanted to confess her so many things, whisper into the dark and silent night. But nothing came on his tongue.

She took a step forward the bed and Alistair moved with her and his legs hit the side of the bed and he stiffened. Solona must have noticed because she exhaled a kiss on his nose then on his lips. "Shhh," she hushed him as places her hand on his chest and slowly pushes him into a sitting position. she waited for him to lie on the pillows before following him. Solona kneeled in front of him, her back straight. Alistair leaned toward to kiss her but at the last moment she moved away and his lips landed on the hollow of her neck.

"I want to touch you," he breathed against her skin. He felt her little to eager nod and he couldn't hold back to smile. She laid on the mattress and Alistair's mouth mapped her delicate skin, his fingers trailed down her body. Solona's fingers explored the scars on his back. Her touch felt warmer every time almost burning him. He felt her burning and Maker knew his soul he wanted to burn with her. Nothing existed around them and he had the feeling they were drifting in the void.

His hand slid down her abdomen and she leaned into his touch, her spine arching. His fingers passed the tuff of ginger hair between her legs and he began gently force her legs apart. Everything felt so instinctive as if they had been doing this a thousand times before. Alistair hardly knew what he was really doing, still, every motion of them was fluid and deliberate.

They were one and undividable.

Two of his fingers slid across her length. Alistair swooped down on her in a kiss to swallow her whimper. He tentatively sank fingers into her. She moaned against his tongue.

"Is it good?" Alistair breathed against her lips his voice tinged with shyness.

Solona nodded. Another finger joined the first and he pulled them out, then in again, the heel of his palm grinding against her with each stroke. Solona's eyelids fluttered closed and her head fell back to the pillows. She was hot inside, almost burning his skin. Her hips struggled to keep up with him, tilting up until his fingertips dragged over something inside her that left her gasping, spine arching up off the sheets. She was trembling all over, his name like a chant on her tongue. Her breaths were erratic. As if she had a high fever. Her body flaming covered with beads of sweat. It was primal and beautiful.

Alistair tried soothing her with soft kisses on her forehead.

Of course, he knew what had just happened still felt so surreal and wonderful.

Her breaths slowly pacified. Solona looked right in his eyes, the green of her irises sparkled like two emeralds. "I love you, Alistair," she breathed sitting up and pushing Alistair down into the mattress. She pressed light kisses on his nose and cheeks then on his throat and collarbone slowly moving down his torso. He shivered by her every touch leaving goosebumps behind. Her move froze under his navel. She looked and sat up and began to unlace his breeches.

Suddenly some kind of juvenile fear flooded him. He grew taut and watched her as she removed his undergarment. He was unsure what to do or not do. He searched her expression to read anything but he couldn't. Solona caressed her fingers against him and he couldn't help but cursed as he tensed against it. Her lips turned to smile. Her fingers became more intent closing around him. Alistair felt like he was exploding.

"Solona stop, please," he heaved. "I'm going to... I don't want to end it like this."

Her move froze. With a slow move, she released him and mounted over him, her hands beside his head. "Then how do you want to end it?"

Alistair felt his cheeks flushed with heat. He opened his mouth but no sound came out just a pathetic whimper. She smiled as leaned back and sat on his lap, his length slid into her.

"Sweet Maker," he moaned. He felt like lightning stroke through his body. She let him get used to the feeling sitting unmoving over him, her hands on his chest. Her thrusts were slow and gentle and Alistair couldn't help but groan by her every move tilting his head back sinking in the pillow. He was unmoving at first, unsure what he should have done but eventually, his hands wandered up her body one hand on her hips the other slid up her skin resting under her breast.

Alistair with a sudden move sit up and embraced her, pressing her torrid body to himself. They moved together. Solona's hand raked his back and he could swear flames were licking his skin. He could swear the tiny flames pulsated around them in sync with their thrusts and breaths. He felt the pressure building in him. He buried his face in her shoulder, softly biting her skin. She screamed. Alistair didn't know because he caused pain or pleasure. The whole world was a hot liquid mess around them and nothing mattered. He could have died, could have burned to ashes right there at that very moment, nothing mattered.

_And he scattered._

It was like thousands of lightning bolts exploding in him, jerking his every muscle, boiling his rushing blood. He heard nothing but his own breath and heartbeat. He couldn't move for long seconds just trembled, snuggling her body to himself. He felt boneless covered with beads, his their bodies still connected, hot and jaded. She planted soft kisses on her shoulder. Solona took deep breaths, her hands tightly around him.

She steadied first to unseat from his lap standing from the bed. Alistair's mind was still too hazy to reach out for her and the sudden absence of her hotness made Alistair shiver and the cool breezes of the spring night covered his skin with goose bumps. That was the moment be began to feel the pain and saw the red marks on his chest. It felt like those hot summer days when the sun burned his skin.

She came back clean, dipping into the mattress and sliding her hand down his shoulder blade. He hissed by the sting her touch caused. Solona whimpered and withdrew her hand but Alistair turned to her and grabbed her wrist.

"It's nothing," he breathed as kissed her hand.

"I... burned... you..."

"It's nothing," he repeated. "It was wonderful." Solona uncertainly stretched her fingers, ghosting over his skin, afraid to touch him. Her breaths were deep but ragged. Alistair grabbed her wrist again and pressed on is flamed skin. "You won't hurt me, I know." The green of her eyes sparkled in tears as she looked at him then they wandered back on her hand. Alistair slowly released it. Her breaths were still deep and trembling as the first tingling blow of her magic reached him. He shivered by the cool feeling of her ice spell mixed with a healing spell.

They were silent. Something uncertain pestered on the room, the desperate stillness of the unknown. And Alistair couldn't help but something absurd came into his mind and a soft hum escaped from his lips.

"What?" Solona asked.

"It's nothing, I just have that thought that according to all the sisters of the monastery I should be stroke by a lightning by now."

She giggled. "I can summon a lightning if you want."

"Sure," he snickered. "But if you hit by the lightning afterward, it hardly seems like an effective deterrent. So please, don't." a soft hum escaped from Solona's lips. They fell silent again. Alistair relished the tingling feeling of her magic, felt warmth despite the icy tendrils covered his skin.

"Do you know how they call the Sun in Tevinter?" Alistair asked at last.

" _Sol,_ " she answered as ceased her spell.

He hummed. "Yes," Alistair turned to her, taking her hands into his. "It rises over the horizon every day, brings light and warmth to these lands, gives a guidance to the lost. It burns you if you come too close. There is only one of it in the sky. It is unique and irreplaceable."

"I don't understand," Solona muttered.

"I needed a name for you. A name that is only mine and no one else's. And this is perfect."

She giggled. "Is it now?" 

"You are my sun, Sol. And I love you," he cupped her cheeks and drew her into a kiss. His lips lingered on her warm skin. "We could stay with the Wardens," he breathed. She didn't answer just a sob escaped her lips. _We could_ ," he repeated.

Solona laid on the bed. Alistair followed her. She moved her head n his chest right over his heart. Alistair wrapped his hands around her as tightly as he could.

"We could..." she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you see my blush? No? I'm practically pepper red.


	35. Public Announcement

Dear Readers!

Due to some circumstances of my current life I have to suspend this and all of my projects for uncertain time. I would like to apologize from everybody who faithfully followed this story and thank you for your honorable attention.


End file.
